Sunday Morning
by FilthyxMind
Summary: Finished. AU. It's obvious that God was resting on Sunday because He let them die. RomanceAngstDramaFluff
1. Chapter 1

Sunday Morning  
The Funeral

**Author's Note: **I wrote this a few months ago. I wasn't sure if I wanted to put it up or not. I wasn't sure how people would respond to it or if they would even _like_ it. I hope it's a success and that you all like it. Also, if you don't know this already, I'm a huge review addict/whore. Reviews would be appreciated. Also, I'm no against God or Christianity. I'm a Christian so, please, don't anyone take offence to Brian's thoughts and feelings.

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_But I cannot forget  
Refuse to regret  
So glad I met you  
Take my breath away  
Make everyday  
Worth all of the pain that I have  
Gone through  
_**Maroon 5 – The Sun**

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Sunday morning.

Aren't Sunday mornings supposed to be holy or whatever the fuck? Isn't this the day that God rested? Isn't this the day that people all go to church for a nice sermon telling people how wrong and how horrible they are? Where the pastor tells them all that they're worthless pieces of shit who don't deserve God's love but since God is so fucking loving you can get to Heaven if you believe that he died on the cross for you? Bull. Shit. God doesn't give a flying fuck about you burning in fucking hell for fucking eternity. He also rested on Sunday, the seventh day, because he didn't give a fuck what happened. That's my theory. 'Cause God was **definitely** resting today. He fucking let them fucking die.

Today I'm at church. Sure, it's not the first time. My mother made me go all the time when I was younger. I hadn't really minded church except for the fact that whenever the preacher decided to tell us that "homosexuality is wrong" it pissed me off and that it got boring after sitting in the hard uncomfortable wooden pew for an hour. I always started to doze off which would earn me a light smack on the leg from my mother. My dad on the other hand laughed at this, he didn't give a fuck if I fell asleep in church 'because he did the exact same thing. Except he didn't get hit for it. Mr. Kinney didn't really give a fuck about anything. Just like me, his son, Brian fucking Kinney. The hottest thing to walk the earth.

No, I'm not conceited. It's just the simple truth.

But I'm not at church to listen to the boring as hell sermon that's going on. No, I'm in church to talk to my mom. She's here every Sunday. I walk into the large sanctuary interrupting the sermon. The preacher doesn't stop talking, no; he keeps right on going even though people are now distracted by me. I don't blame them and no, it's not because I'm fucking gorgeous. No, it's because my face is covered with blood and hot salty tears, my clothes are wrinkled beyond being able to be fixed, they too are covered with blood, and I'm shaking like leaf. Then my mother, Joan Kinney, spots me, gasps, and leaves her pew. She has never in her God – given life gotten out of her seat in the middle of a sermon before.

"Brian?"

She hurries towards me. She left her Bible in the pew forgotten. She's never forgotten her Bible anywhere either. Her eyes are wide and round with confusion. Her mouth is open in a tiny O of shock at my appearance. Never in her life has she seen me so unclean. Good thing she doesn't know I'm gay or she'd see me unclean everyday even when I'm freshly cleansed. Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder and then I'm in her arms crying on her shoulder. My shoulders heaving up and down, loud choked sobs coming out of my mouth. I haven't cried in my mother's arms since I was probably two or three. And that was only because my father's an alcoholic and he got off on beating me for no reason when his system was drowned in alcohol. By now the preacher had stopped preaching and was leaving his spot and coming towards us.

"Brian, what's wrong?"

How can she expect me to talk? I can't even breathe! Fuckfuckfuck. Joan pushes me away from her, her hands still rest on my shoulders though, and she stares at me worriedly. By now the preacher, he's been the preacher since I was a little boy and he's looks deathly old, is standing next to my mother, Bible tucked under his arm, and a worried expression on his face. I squeeze my eyes shut and narrow my head towards the ground. I'm Brian fucking Kinney. I don't cry. I don't. Fucking. Cry. But I'm crying. My tears are escaping the crevices of my eyelids and there's nothing I can do about it. The palms of my hands press against my eyes trying to force the tears to stay inside where they belong.

It doesn't work, needless to say.

"…Brian?"

My vision is blurred from the liquid in my eyes but I look at her anyway, letting the tears slide down my face like tiny, salty streams. I can't control them anyhow. "They're **dead**." She looks shocked at my words. So does the pastor. So do the few bystanders that are standing in their pews nearby trying to look like they aren't listening like the good little Christians that they are. Joan places a hand on my cheek, thumb wiping away a few of my tears but more just coming to replace them as quickly as she wiped them away. "Brian, who's dead?" I looked back towards the floor, head bowing down again; my whole body is shaking uncontrollably.

"T-this morning - - Six O clock…they were i-in their c-car…"

Joan placed a firm but gentle grip on my chin and tilted my face back upwards so she could look my directly in my teary eyes. "Who's 'they'?" I'm not ignoring her. I just choose not to answer her because if I say it out loud then I'll know for sure that what happened is true and I'm not ready to face the life altering realization yet. "Some guy…r-rammed into them from the s-side…t-then another c-car rammed into t-them from the other f-front…t-they drove o-off but…but…but…" Joan ran a hand through my hair. The gesture was supposed to be soothing but it wasn't. Nothing could be soothing right now. "But what, Brian?"

"But…t-there w-was a…b-bystander…s-some produce marker s-seller who was w-working early…didn't g-get the license plate n-numbers. They're dead."

Joan placed both hands firmly on my shoulders and my eyes meet hers. They're still blurred with my tears but I can still make her and the pastor out. "Brian, tell me who's dead." I squeeze my eyes shut, pain shaking through my body, and more tears reproducing in my tear glands. The pastor lays a comforting hand on my shoulder or what's supposed to be comforting but I shake it off. I don't like it when people touch me. Well, pastors anyway. I don't like it when pastors touch me. My glazed eyes meet my mother's again and I sniffle. Like a little faggot, I _sniffle_! I quickly forget about it.

"J-Jenny Rebecca. M-Mel and L-L-Linds."

Linds was the hardest. I loved her like the best – friend she was. If I had been straight I would've asked her to marry me and we could've had Gus the "normal" way instead of me just giving her a cup of my semen and letting her lesbian lover artificially inseminating her. Joan gasped as did the pastor. So did the bystanders that were close enough to hear. "Was Gus in the car?" He was. Gus had been in the car but he had survived. He was in the hospital now from what Michael told me with tears on the other line of the phone. I didn't go though, not yet, I had to come here. I had to get my mother to come with me. I don't know why I did. Probably because she loved Lindsay and Gus just as much as I did.

She hadn't been big on them being lesbians but she hadn't been a bitch about it.

She had accepted it and loved Gus just as much as me.

"Yes. He's….hospital."

Joan quickly turned to the pastor. She tells him that we have to go to the hospital and he quickly agrees and tells her that he'll pray for her and her family. Fuck that. Praying isn't going to bring Mel, Linds and JR back. I can't help but think of Michael at the moment. JR was his daughter, his pride and joy, and she had died when my son, my beautiful son, had stayed alive and alright. I don't think it's fair. I think it's unfair of God to take away Michael's daughter. Mikey's on of the most caring, kindest, funniest, men I know and he doesn't deserve this shit. Thanks you very much, God. And you expect me to worship you and praise your name? Fuck that bull shit.

"Come on, Brian."

I leave my jeep in the church parking lot and get into my mother's old beat up car that she's had for a million years. In five seconds flat were heading down the street, unspeaking. I stare at myself in the mirror and slowly calm myself down. I don't want to look like this in front of my son or Michael and whoever else might be there. I never look this vulnerable in front of my friends or anyone else and they could, if they needed to, use it against me some day. Me being vulnerable is a bad thing. By the time we reach the hospital my face is tearstain free, though my eyes are red and puffy. And I'm still covered in blood.

When I arrived at the scene of the accident Mel and Linds were in the front seat. I hadn't known the three of them were dead yet and I went straight to Linds. I opened the passenger door and pulled her out and placed her gently on the ground. "Linds! Come on, Linds! Wake up!" Needless to say, she hadn't. I was on my knees kneeling over her dead body on the cement. Blood was pouring out of her head, stomach, legs and arms. Mel was in worst condition with half the steering wheel in her stomach and the car door pushed into her side. I couldn't even get that door open it was so damaged. Then when I had walked to the backseat of the car there had been Gus screaming and Jenny Rebecca.

She didn't even look dead but she was. I could tell.

Before I left to drive to the church the produce seller told me that she had called the police and that the ambush had happened about ten minutes ago. I had asked her how the fuck she had gotten my number and she had simply told me when she ran over to the car after the other two drivers drove off she had reached through Mel's broken window, grabbed her cell phone, and picked the first number that she had seen and that had been mine. Fucking mine. Then she had called the police. Now, here I was walking into the hospital to comfort my son. Joan was silent as she led me through the long, white, sterile halls. Then, suddenly, there was Michael sitting in one of the green plastic chairs crying his eyes out.

There was also a stunning blonde standing across from him and leaning against the wall. I didn't recognize him so I figured he was here for something else. I'm soon standing in front of Michael, gathering him in my arms and letting him cry on my shoulder. I don't tell him that it's ok or that it'll be alright 'cause I'm not fucking stupid and I know it won't be alright. Things won't be alright for a long while and I don't see how they can ever be alright after this. Over Michael's shoulder I meet the startling blue eyes of the blonde leaning against the wall. His eyes are red, watery, and stains from tears streak his pale cheeks. Pain is clearly written across his orbs of blue peering out from the red.

I stare at him for a few more moments, his eyes staring directly at mine, before letting mine shut and focusing only on Michael and his sobbing. Joan sits down in a chair and I slowly sit down pulling Michael down with me. He pulls away from me now and rest his face in the palm of his hands. My hand wraps around the back of his neck and my other hand rubs my tired eyes. This has to be the fucking worst morning of my fucking life. Even worst then the mornings my dad was already drunk and he took pride and enthusiasm in taking his leather belt and making huge welts all over my body. This was so much worst then that. I'd rather get beat right now. Suddenly, my eyes watch closely, a police officer is walking down the hall and the blonde stands fully straight as if he knows the officer is coming to speak to him.

And he is. And I watch. I have a right.

If it has to do with Mel, Linds, and JR.

"Are you Mr. Taylor?"

"…Justin Taylor."

The officer wrote something down on his yellow pad of paper much like the one that Debbie uses at the diner she owns and works at. The Liberty Diner. "I'm Carl Horvath." He holds out a hand but the blonde man, or maybe he's a boy, I can't tell, doesn't take it. He just stands there looking troubled and uncomfortable in the white environment. Carl lets his hand fall back to his side and he continues on.

"You say you know the men who rammed into Miss Peterson and Miss Marcus' car?"

My head lifts fully up, my ears are on alert. How would he know? What does he have to do with my friends? He meets my eyes for a moment as if expecting this kind of reaction. I look over at Michael who hasn't seemed to hear a word and has his hands over his face still. Biting my bottom lip I look back towards Justin Taylor, whoever the fuck he is, and the police officer and listen. I deserve to know. I loved all of them, even Mel whom I didn't get along with. I loved her too dammit.

"Y-yes."

"Names please?"

The blonde let out a shaky breath.

"You won't tell them I told you?"

Carl shook his head.

"Everything you say is completely confidential."

This Justin nodded and bowed his head and stared down at the floor, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and hands shoving deep into the pockets of his jeans. He slowly looks up again to meet Carl's eyes.

"It's my fault."

What the fuck! His fault? I almost stand up and march over there and beat the shit out of his bubble butt. Carl looks surprised and writes something in his notepad again. "What do you mean by that, son?" Justin's face contorted into a look of pain and regret. Sorrow, pain, and regret. Tears started to fall down his face and I can't imagine this man/boy purposely getting a friend to help him bash Mel and Linds' car in. Justin ran a hand through his ear length, shaggy blonde strands and draws in a shaky breath.

"I'm Jenny Rebecca's and Gus's babysitter when Mel and Linds need me. I was only returning a favor for Lindsay because she helped me pay my way into art school and she needed a baby sitter. Vua la. So, anyway, there's this guy…his name's Chris Hobbs…he's kinda against…he hates me and love to mess around with me 'cause I'm gay so when he found out I was going to stop working for him,"

Carl broke in, furiously writing in his pad.

"Where does he work?"

"He works at that construction down the street from where the…accident happened."

"Alright, go on."

He drew in another deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a few moments.

"He was pissed when I told him I quit so I can attend school and that I got another job anyway. He asked what and I told him since I didn't want him to think I was lying…and he went irate telling me that he was going to kick my gay little ass and beat the shit out of me 'cause I'm a faggot…"

"Mr. Hobbs has never threatened you before?"

Justin shook his head.

"No…but I think he was mad because…"

Carl looked at him expectantly.

"'cause the day before I gave him a hand job."

His cheeks were red but Carl said nothing. My eyes however widened and my eyebrows lifted up. Interesting. A straight guy gets a hand job from a gay man and then gets all pissy on him. Justin continued on. "I guess he was mad about that…especially since he didn't seem to mind it…" Carl wasn't writing anything now so Brian guessed that this piece of information wasn't important to the case. Justin shook his head. He suddenly looked very tired, his face ashen.

"Anyway, he said he was going to get back at me. I didn't even understand what he was talking about. He's completely psycho and fucked up in the head. So I just leave and tell him to fuck off. So, I guess he thought I would be in the car with them this morning and decided to go for it and fulfill his promise."

Carl stopped writing.

"How do you know it was him though?"

"Isn't it fucking obvious?"

His voice had risen a few octaves.

"He threatened me and the next morning my dearest friends, who I work for now, had their car rammed in on purpose? Plus, I know what kind of car he drives and the produce lady said that one of the vehicles was an Excursion. He fucking owns an Excursion! He fucking killed them because of me! It's **my** fucking fault!"

His voice was ringing down the halls. Nurses came out to see what the commotion was. Michael was looking on with a look of shock and anger. My mother was just watching with a startled expression. Justin was in tears, his shoulders heaving up and down like mine had been earlier in the church. I just watched in awe. He was beautiful even when he had tears streaming down his face and he looked like a complete shitty mess. I slowly stood up and walked towards the two of them causing both of them to look in my direction. I ignored Carl and kept my eyes locked on Justin Taylor. I wish I could've been blessed with a baby-sitter this hot when I had been younger.

I'd ask for a spanking all the time.

Smiling apologetically at him I gathered him in my arms and pulled him against my chest. I buried my face in his soft hair, wrapped my arms around his small lithe frame, and placed my hand around his neck to hold him in place like he would fall through my arms or something. I was crying all over again. I couldn't hold it in. I was told by Michael at one point that it's ok to cry. I don't remember what we had been talking about, probably about my father, and he had said crying doesn't make you weak. Crying is human nature. Crying is something normal. Crying is ok no matter what my abusive father says. So I cry. I cry with Justin Taylor in my arms not blaming him at all for the deaths that had happened.

But I was going to kill fucking Chris Hobbs.

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Pretty angsty, huh? I really hope you like my story. I promise you that it won't be this angsty the entire story. That would just be sad story and no one wants to read something that's sad the entire time through. Sorry for any grammatical errors. I don't have a BETA and I don't believe in Beta's because I like to do my own work and learn from mistakes. Plus, I don't want a BETA at the moment because I want to get my chapters up ASAP. Thanks for reading. 


	2. Breakdown

Breakdown

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Underneath the guise of a smile gradually I'm dying inside  
Friends ask me how I feel and I lie convincingly  
'Cause I don't want to reveal that fact that I'm suffering  
So I wear my disguise 'til I go home at night  
And turn down all the lights and then break down and cry  
**Breakdown – Mariah Carey**

**

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**

**Justin's POV**

As soon as I saw the gorgeous man covered in dark, sticky blood I knew he was Gus's father. The Brian Kinney that Linds always spoke so fondly of then who Mel always had something smart to say about "the asshole". I had never seen him before except for the few pictures that are sitting on the mantel in the lesbian's home. There's on that always caught my eye whenever I walked past it, one where Brian was holding his son and looking down at him affectionately. He had never looked like much of an asshole to me in that picture and I had told Mel so but she had only said he was posing for the camera. Linds has quickly disagreed. And, when he walked into the hospital, he didn't look like an asshole.

When he looked at me he didn't look like an asshole.

When he came towards me he didn't look like an asshole.

When he hugged and held me he didn't look like an asshole.

I had been scared that he would be mad at me since it's **my** fault that the two women and their beautiful daughter had died. I thought he would take out all his pent up anger and fling at me but he didn't look angry at me. Not like the black-haired man still seated in his chair with pure venom hanging on his face. I quickly shut my eyes to avoid his menacing stare and only concentrated on crying with my chin tilted up and resting on this tall man's shoulder. I don't know how Mel could ever think of him as an asshole, not with the way he was acting now anyway. If only she could see him…but she can't. She can't because I got her killed. I pissed Hobbs off and this is my punishment. It was also punishment for whoever else knew them.

"It's not your fault."

I hadn't expected him to talk to me, to hear his choked up voice speaking in my ear, but I'm kind of glad he did because his voice…his voice is soothing, soft and glorious to my ears and I mentally purr at the sound. It helps me block out the memories of Mel, Linds, and JR, helps me block out the voices that are making me think that this is _my_ entire fault. I still can't help but think, _know_, that it is though. His hand on my back trailing his fingers up and down my back push that thought away and I try, fuck, I really do try, to believe what he said to me. _It's not your fault_. _It's not your fault. It's not your fault. _But I bet if I had never taken Linds up on her generous offer then I never would have quit my job at the construction site and, therefore, Chris would have never come after me.

"B-but-"

He wouldn't stand for it. My protests.

"It's **not** your fault."

I'm about to protest again, about to tell him that he's wrong, about to tell him that it is my fault and that I'm sorry for…everything but I don't. Not because I get scared and not because I think he won't believe me or because I think he'll get annoyed with me not listening to him and stop holding me…no, because a nurse walks out into the hall, hands folded in front of her. I don't notice her there until she clears her throat, which makes my eyes open, and Brian lift his head away from mine and look at the young women. "Which one of you is Gus's father?" She looks at Michael first, then quickly skips the older women that came in with Brian, moves from the police officer who's still standing there looking awkward with the hugging situation and then at us. Brian slowly steps away from me, I suddenly feel cold and isolated, and nods.

"I am."

"Come with me, sir."

Brian doesn't move. He looks as if he fears the worst.

"Is he ok?" The nurse offered a small smile of reassurance.

"Yes, he's fine. He's only scratched up a bit, had to get a few stitches in his right cheek where a shred of glass broke then skin." I was relieved that Gus was alright, I had always loved the four-year-old, but Brian looked pained. Pained that his son had been hurt at all. I bowed my head and stared down at the floor and then too a risk and glanced over at the black-haired man that had shared an embrace with Brian earlier. He was glaring daggers at the floor, tears still flowing freely, but when he felt my gaze on him he looked up and just shot an evil look in my direction. I had a feeling he would never forgive me. The nurse looked at Brian, concerned.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"I'm…fine. Just take me to my son."

He didn't sound fine but what was to be expected? No one was going to sound or be fine for a while now. Everyone who cared for the women and their children were going to be wrecks for quite a while if not forever. I wasn't sure how I was going to put up with the feeling that I was responsible for their death. I'd probably have to see a counselor. No, Ethan would never allow that. Ethan. Just the very thought of my boyfriend of two years made the sick feeling in my stomach worst. He would be pissed since I hadn't called him to let him know where he was. He'd probably hit me like he always did when he got pissed at me. Biting my bottom lip, I pull the thin silver cell phone out of my pocket and quickly dial his number. Maybe it would help if I called him, let him know what happened.

No, he wouldn't give a flying fuck. He hated the fact that I spent a lot of time with Mel and Linds. He was the over-protective type and easily got jealous despite the fact that they were both lesbians. That was Ethan. Daphne told me to get over my stupid self and break things off with him but…I'd rather not make him pissed at me. Plus, he would probably go into one of his raging rampage things and try and hurt me for "betraying" him and leaving him all alone in his crap of an apartment. Fuck. I might as well face reality. I'm too much of a "scared little faggot" to break things off after two years of unhappiness. Suddenly there was a click and Ethan was on the line. "Where the fuck are you?"

"The hospital."

I wonder if he can tell I've been crying, _am_ crying, by my voice. Not that he cares.

"Why the fuck are you at the hospital? You didn't do anything stupid did you? You know I can't afford a hospital bill right now. What the fuck did you do?"

I knew it. I knew he would act like this. I pinched the bridge of my nose in between my thumb and forefinger, my back leant against the wall and I slid down until I was sitting down on the ground.

"I didn't fucking do anything, Ethan. It's…Mel and Linds…and Jenny…"

I glanced over at Michael who was listening to the conversation and not doing anything to try and hide the fact that he was eavesdropping. I don't care. It doesn't matter. I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear Ethan's aggravated sigh on the other end of the phone. "What happened?" I can tell he really doesn't care. He's just asking to humor me. I pretend I don't know this though and I decided to tell him anyway. I leave out Brian holding me and comforting me though.

"They d-died. That's why I'm here."

"Why though? You can't fucking do anything but get in people's way. There's nothing you can do for them if they're _dead_. Get your ass home."

I wished I could just…just do something to the man on the other end of the phone right now. The insensitive prick that I thought I had been in love with at some point in time. "I can't. Gus is here." Sighing, I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my free arm around them. I rest my forehead on top of my knees and squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear an aggravated sound on the other end of the phone. "Fuck Gus. Come home." I do the unthinkable. I've never done this to Ethan and it was probably stupid on my part. I hang up on him and just stare at my phone, mentally cursing myself.

**Ring**.

I don't answer it though. No, instead I throw it on the floor as hard as possible, causing a loud racket that causes everyone in the hall to look at me in shock, and the phone breaks apart and immediately stops ringing. Fuck Ethan. Fuck his insensitivity. Fuckfuckfuck! I grab the phone again and pound it on the floor some more for extra measure. It makes me feel slightly better but I know I'll regret it when I get "home." And, unfortunately, Brian was walking back towards us when I decided to have a "tantrum" and do all of this. I look up at him while biting my lip trying to force down the tears that threatened to spill over. Stupid fucking Ethan. Brian watches me for a moment before doing anything. Saying anything.

"…Gus is asking to see you."

Gus is asking to see me. I feel a swell in my heart and start pulling myself up off the ground. Brian's hand appears to help me and I immediately take his hand, warm over mine, and let him help me up off the ground. I quickly let go though. If Ethan's pissed enough, which I know he is, he could come walking through those hospital doors any moment now. He's probably on his way right now if I had to guess. On his way to pick me up, ream me out, and then, in the privacy of our home, give me a few good smacks across the face. He never hits me _too _bad but Daphne says if he hits me at all it's too bad. I suppose she's right but…whatever. Brian leads me into a dark hospital room and there's Gus. He looks lost and confused but smiles nonetheless when he sees me.

"Jus Jus!"

I try and smile, it's so hard though. How can anyone smile after this and act like nothing happened? But I do anyway. For Gus. I have to be strong. "Hey, Gus Gus!" He slowly toddles towards me and then I'm kneeling down on the floor wrapping his small body in my arms in a tight hug just thankful that at least he survived. I loved JR too but I had always had this…connection with Gus somehow. Gus hugs me for a moment but then either gets bored or doesn't like all the sappy attention. I don't even realize that I had tears running down my face until he said something. Gus looked up at Brian with worry on his small face. "Dad, is Jus alright?" I quickly use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears and smile the best I can.

Brian doesn't say anything. I look up at him and he looks…cornered. He doesn't know what to say and neither do I. I place a hand on Gus's shoulder and the boy looks back at me with worry. Doesn't he know? Doesn't he know that his mothers are gone? Dead? Forever? Never to be brought back? "I'm fine, Gus." The little boy titled his head at me. "Why are you sad?" I want to tell him that I'm not sad, I want to lie to him and tell him that it's just my allergies are acting up even though he doesn't know what allergies are. I want to tell him that everything's fine but I can't bring myself to lie to the precious boy. I can't answer anyway since my worst nightmare walks through the door.

"_There_ you are. The fucking nurse almost wouldn't let me come get you."

Startled, I nearly jump out of my skin when I shoot up off my knees and stand up straight. I spin around to meet the cold and aggravated eyes of my boyfriend. I was right. The fucker came to the hospital to get me. My eyes narrow and I shoot him a look. "Watch your language." Ethan smirks, looks from Gus to me and then at Brian. The brunette's glaring at Ethan and I don't really blame him. I would be glaring at him too if it was my son he was cussing in front of. Or maybe that's not why Brian's mad. Maybe Brian's pissed because he just doesn't like Ethan period. Ethan looks over at me.

"Who the f-_heck_ is this?" His eyes sparkle with sick amusement but also jealousy.

I glance over at Brian who's watching Ethan. His eyes. They burn with annoyance.

"T-this is Brian. Gus's dad."

Ethan glares at me.

"Then why the fuck are you here? I told you to come home, not have a party in the hospital. If his father's here then there's no reason for you to be here. You're coming home."

By the look on his face he knows I'm about to protest.

"_Now_."

He comes towards me and grabs my wrist, so tight it hurts kind of, and goes to pull me out of the hospital room. That's before Brian steps forward and grabs Ethan's arm and pulls his hand away from my wrist with a harsh glare and a shove. It made Ethan stumble backwards a few steps. Needless to say, he was pissed that Brian, some stranger, had shoved him away from his "property" as Ethan would call me sometimes. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Keep your fucking hands _off_ me." Brian stepped forward, his much taller form towering threatening over Ethan's much shorter form. He's my height so he's way shorter then Brian. I turn around and look at Gus and pick him up before he can intervene and try and "protect" his daddy.

"You keep your hands off of him."

I've never heard a male being sound so threatening before. Or look this threatening. Ethan even looks nervous about all of it. But that didn't stop him from sneering up at the brunette. "You can't tell me what to do. He's my boyfriend so you can mind your own fucking business." Ethan turns to look at me and the little boy, who looks more then a little scared at the turn of events, and glares at the both of us.

"Put the kid down. We're leaving."

I listen. What else can I do? I can't disobey him. I can never do that without there being consequences taking place later. Wanting to sob but biting my bottom lip instead, I kiss Gus on the forehead and hand him over to Brian, who takes him while looking at me worriedly. I try and ignore the look and only nod at him for a goodbye and wave bye to Gus. Then Ethan's hand is around my wrist again and he's dragging me out of the room and down the hall with a mask of anger on his face. I knew I shouldn't have hung up on him. If I hadn't then he wouldn't be hear now dragging me down the hall and making people watch us curiously. Sighing, I let him drag me out to his beat up old car.

* * *

**Brian's POV**

As soon as Justin disappeared around the door I let my face relax and my glare disappear off my face. What the fuck had that been? Who the fuck did that controlling fucker think he was? '_He's my boyfriend'_ popped into my head. The fucker thought that just because the shorter man was his boyfriend that he could just drag him around and treat him like worthless shit? Especially with what he was going through right now? Justin looked like had been about to burst into tears and the moron didn't seem to care a bit? And _why_ the fuck was Justin dating him anyway? Wanting to go after Justin and his fucked up partner but deciding against it, I set Gus on the hospital bed.

"How you doin' Sonny Boy?"

I knew how _I_ was doing. Did Gus know if his mothers had died or did he think they were just badly hurt? Did he think that there was hope he would ever seen his mother again? I dreaded the time when Gus would look up at me with his wide hazel eyes, exactly like my own eyes, and ask me that horrible question with an even more horrible answer. Where's mommy and mama? Where are they? I rub my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. More emotionally then physically but I could definitely use a nap right now. A nap would free me from reality for a few hours…if I could even sleep. I wonder if Gus would be able to sleep or if he would have nightmares about this? I knew nightmares would be the outcome of this for my little boy. Shit. The time had come.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

I ran a hand through his short brunette hair. He was the spitting image of me. That meant he would be the most gorgeous man in Pittsburgh when he was older. Just like his father. He looked up at me with wide, confused eyes and I felt a pang in my heart. "Where are mommy and mama? When are they gonna get here?" The question of doom. The question that I didn't want to answer. The question that I couldn't bring myself to answer. How the hell can I avoid it though? I can't lie to him. There would be no point in lying to him about the whereabouts of his mothers. Sighing heavily, I pick him up off the bed and settle him down in a chair, which I kneel down in front of when he's situated.

"…Gus…you have to listen to me alright? Are you listening?"

He looks up at me and only nods. By the look on his face I can tell he can hear the distraught tone in my voice. The tone that I'm doing my best to hide from him but I'm know St. and I can't.

"Your moms…when those mean people ran into your car…do you remember that?"

Again, Gus only nodded. I almost backed of this right now. I hated being the bearer of such bad news to him. He was only four-fucking-years-old! This wasn't fair to him. I pressed on though. I couldn't back out.

"It hurt them really bad."

"How bad, daddy?"

Oh fuck. I've had enough crying. I won't cry. I force myself not to.

"Gus – remember when your friend, Ben's, cat ate that fish?"

Looking sort of confused, I don't blame him for that, Gus only nodded. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. He hadn't known it would be so hard for him to explain death to his son. Gus reached out and grabbed my hand. My eyes snapped open at the contact but I held his hand tightly in my own. Gus sighed.

"The fish went away forever."

Brian nodded, licking his lips and wishing he could go back in time and keep all this shit from happening. "That's right. That's the same for your moms…they aren't coming back, Gus…" For a four-year-old who loved his mothers with every ounce of his small heart he took it surprisingly well. He didn't say anything. He only cried and I pulled him to my chest and picked him up. I know he's four and not super little anymore but I start rocking back and forth anyway, showering small kisses on his head and cheek. I don't kiss his hurt cheek because I don't want to cause him anymore pain then he's already going through. Suddenly there's a knock on the door and the nurse is standing there.

Worried. Concerned. Sympathetic. It's written all over her face.

"I just need you to sign some forms and you can go home."

I nod and, as much as I don't want to let go of him, I place him back in that metal chair and take the forms out of the nurse's hands. She stands by the door and waits for me to sign my name and other information needed. All the while I hear Gus sniffling like I had done in the church earlier. I had felt like such an idiot when I had done so but I had gotten over it and hearing Gus sniffling offered me another few pangs and harsh tugs at my already sore heart. I don't know how we're going to get through this. I know the next couple of days are going to be as hard as hell and I don't know if I'm ready. But I tell myself I'm going to be strong. That I have to be strong. For Gus.

"Here."

"Thank you, Mr. Kinney."

The nurse hesitated. She looked like she wanted to say something. Probably sorry and whatnot but I was thankful when she decided against it. I didn't need her to say sorry and whatnot. It would only make things worst and it wouldn't change anything that was happening. I only nod at her and stride out of the room. Michael and Joan are still down the hall. Michael has stopped crying by now and Joan is…well, Joan is just sitting there. She had never liked Michael. She didn't like any homosexual men. If she only knew about me…her son…I pushed the thought away and stopped in front of the two adults and just stood there. Silent. Michael abruptly stood up and hurried out the door without a word.

"Do you want me to take Gus tonight, Brian?

The thought appealed to me slightly but I shook my head. My son needed me and I needed my son. We needed each other. We both lost people who were important to our lives. "No thanks, mom. Uh- We're just gonna go to home…" Joan nodded, standing up slowly and kissed me on the cheek. She then kissed my son on the cheek and walked out of the hospital with me. The sun was blaring down at me from the bright blue sky. The weather was all wrong. It should be pouring down rain from a downcast sky. There should be huge dark clouds scattered across the sky instead of a few white fluffy ones that up there now.

I look up at the sky and talk to God for the first time in years.

_Why did you have to be resting?

* * *

_

**Michael's POV**

I love Brian. I always have loved Brian.

But, right now? I can't help but hate him. Loath him. I can't help but wish I was him instead of me. He got to keep his son and I didn't get to keep my daughter. In my opinion, I'm a better person then he is and I feel like a shitty person for thinking that way about my best-friend since high school. After all, if it wasn't for him I never would've survived high school. But it's true. Sure, I may not be as good looking, as tall, and as muscular, tan or hairless on my chest but I sure as hell am better where it counts. My heart. Or at least that's what I like to think. Brian cares a lot too. He just doesn't show it all the time.

But, fuck!

Then he had to go over and…hug, hold, _comfort_ that blonde twink! Since when did Brian hug random strangers? Especially random strangers who got our family _killed_? Maybe I'm being shallow right now. I now, what's his name – Justin, didn't mean to harm anyone. You could tell by the look on his face when he had been talking to Officer Horvath. You could tell when he was crying in Brian's fucking arms. You could just tell by the sincerity in his voice. In his eyes. But I still can't help but be mad at the stupid blonde that just had to go and piss off some freak at work. Of course…how would he know the guy would go insane and try and kill his friends? I dial Emmett's number.

I need to vent.

I need to cry with someone.

Plus, I need to make everyone aware of what happened.

* * *

**Justin's POV**

"Why the fuck did you hang up on me?"

The whole ride "home" with Ethan had been deathly silent and I was grateful. However, I knew that as soon as we walked into his crap hole he would start yelling and asking questions. Ethan tugged off his lightweight sweater and threw it on a small wicker chair before turning back to look at me. Little old me standing in front of the door, ready to make a run for it if he got too violent. He had never gotten too violent before but I had a feeling he was in a worst mood then usual. Especially since he was probably jealous since I had been in the same room with a devastatingly gorgeous man. Even though I hadn't been doing anything.

I tugged nervously at the sleeves of my shirt.

They were big and covered up half my hands. That's what I liked about these shirts even though Ethan hated it when I wore them. He wanted to know why I didn't wear something tighter, something more appealing, and something that fit. I preferred to dress the way I liked to dress though and it pissed him off to know end. Sighing, I placed a hand on my head, running my fingers through my hair and just grabbing a handful of the gold strands and gripping it tightly trying to keep from losing my temper. One got tired of his seemingly never ending yelling and bullshit.

"Because you wouldn't listen to me. I needed to stay at the hospital. Gus was still there…and I knew he'd want to see me. Plus, I wanted to be there for him…"

"That's what he has a fucking _father_ for."

I pulled my hair impatiently.

"I _love_ him. I wanted to be there for him."

Ethan picked up a small figurine from the small end table next to a small coffee table. I backed away slightly until my back was leaning against the door. Who knew why he picked it up? He would probably use it as a thing to throw at me if I made a wrong move. The man looked at me, running a hand irritatingly through his curly black hair. My eyes never left the small figurine in his hand though. I had to be cautious. Careful.

"You love him more then me?"

_Yes._ "No."

He frowned.

"Liar."

_Yes. _"No."

"Justin, I'm tired of your shit."

I almost rolled my eyes but kept myself in check. I couldn't deal with this right now. Three friends, practically family, had just died and he was giving me bull shit about things that didn't matter. "I'm tired of your shit." Obviously the wrong thing for me to say but I was tired, I didn't feel good, and I was on the line of breaking down and Ethan wasn't helping this at all. To my luck, he set down the figurine. At least I now knew that he wasn't going to throw it at me. Instead, he walked towards me, grabbed the collar of my shirt and glared at me, yanking me away from the door. A swift slap across the face later, his ring – The ring that we both had on our fingers to show our commitment – cutting my jaw in the process.

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Don't _hit_ me."

I quickly pushed him away, yanked the ring off my finger and threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and hit the floor. His face said it all. He was outraged that I had flung it at him, outraged that I was basically telling him that this was all over, outraged that I was doing what I wanted for once. Ethan clenched his fist and I opened the door as fast as possible. "You can't just leave me." I stepped outside into the hall where people would be sure to hear me if I yelled. If he tried anything…I would yell. Scream for help. I glared at him as fiercely as possible in my depressed state.

"I'll do what I want,"

I took a few steps away from the door.

"For a change."

That said I hurried out of the apartment building as fast as possible. I didn't think he would come after me and I was right but I wasn't going to take any chances. Ethan was unpredictable and he would do whatever he wanted. That's why I had a feeling he would be after me later on. He would think up some rotten plan to lure me somewhere and then steal me away. Pulling the sleeves of my shirt over my hands I ducked my head and began walking, feet pounding against the cement, as fast as I could. I was on my way to the Liberty Diner. One of the safest havens I knew with Deb there. She would know what to do.

Then it started to rain. Hard, cold rain.

It was a forty minute walk.

* * *


	3. Father Figure

* * *

And with a tear in my eye  
Give me the sweetest goodbye  
That I ever did receive  
**Sweetest Goodbye – Maroon 5**

* * *

**Justin**

By the time I reach the diner I'm soaked to the bone, shivering and fucking cold in the thin long sleeved shirt I had on and jeans. I'm cold by nature and this fucking rain felt like there was liquid ice being pelted at me. For the last fucking forty minutes. I bet I'm gonna catch pneumonia. Arms wrapped around myself, I pushed the door open with my body, the bell jingling happily above my head, and just stand there when I'm inside. It's so warm in here. Trembling, I don't know if it's from the crying or me freezing my balls off, I walk towards the counter. Deb didn't look up when the door opened, she probably hadn't been expecting me, and plus, she was crying and trying to control herself so she could get back to work.

She's always been a hard working woman – Even through the hardest times.

I've heard stories.

"D-Deb?"

Startled, Debbie's head shoots up from the pad she was doodling on and her red, puffy eyes meet my own eyes. They're in the same condition as hers. "Sunshine!" She all but runs around the counter to come to me and when she does reach me she wraps her arms around me and pulls my wet body against her dry one – It's not so dry anymore however. I, too, wrap my arms around her seeking warmth physically and emotionally. Deb has always been a comfort to me. There were times when I would come in here instead of Ethan's after my classes were over so I could tell her about my dad, Ethan, any problems just so I wouldn't have to see my mental boyfriend. Make that **ex**-boyfriend. Deb slowly pulled back, her eyes taking me in. "Sunshine –"

She pauses and pats me on the cheek.

"…Just…just look at you!"

I don't know how she does it. I know she had been crying earlier, someone must've called her and told her about Mel and Linds by now since she was close to them and everything. It was probably Michael. After all, Michael was her son and her granddaughter had just died. But I don't know how she could act so collected after her body had been milked dry of tears, how she could be so concerned about me despite all that was happening right now, and how she could be so…caring when her life had been tragically turned upside down. No matter what happened, Deb was always there for the people who needed her. Always. There was never a time, that I can remember, that she wasn't.

"What were you doin' out in the rain?"

"…I had to get away from Ethan."

Worry Mode was soon clicked and locked into place.

"What did he do this time?"

I rubbed my eyes. I was so tired of all the drama with him; I was tired of having to explain to people what he always did. I was just plain tired of all things having to do with Ethan. "I…I called him from the hospital and he didn't…he didn't…fuck. He didn't give a flying fuck about Mel and Linds. He just told me to come home and forget about it! So, I hung up on him and G-Gus wanted to see me and when I was in there with…Brian, Ethan comes running in and drags me out. So – When we got home I basically told him bye and walked away. I had to go somewhere and I don't have a car. So I walked here."

Deb handed me a towel so I could dry my skin off.

I'd still be in soaking clothes but I would take what I could.

"Serves that fucker right. I'm glad you came here, Sunshine. I just can't believe…I can't believe what happened…the officer that talked to you today, Carl Horvath; we're friends, called me and told me what you told him. I'm so sorry, Sunshine."

Then I'm in her arms again and she's crying on my shoulder, which, of course, makes me start crying too. I know the few people that are eating right now are watching us with concern, shock or annoyance. It depends on the person and if they care about other people or not. Sniffling, she pulls away and walks back around the counter and grabs a pitcher of lemonade and begins walking around and refilling. "Deb – you really shouldn't be working right now…ask someone else to take over for a little while." She doesn't listen to me. Of course she doesn't. She's a determined woman. Sighing, I sink down on the stool still wet, cold, and shivering.

* * *

**Brian**

This was not good.

Gus wouldn't stop crying and when he did stop crying he would hold on to me and not let go. I couldn't stand it. It was making me feel sick to my stomach, the way he depended on me, the way he needed me, the way I felt that I couldn't be there for him because I'm a shitty father. I never took care of him, not really anyway and this looked like it was going to be long term. Obviously. And, as much as I didn't want to, I had to make funeral arrangements and that took time, considering, and planning. I couldn't do any of those with Gus latched on to me and needing me to comfort him. I'm sitting on the couch, holding him close to me and stroking his hair and trying to get him to calm down.

But that's stupid.

His mother's died. He has every right to be doing this.

On the brink of insanity and more tears that I've worked so hard to keep under wraps, I reach over and grab my cell phone and run through the address book until I reach the diner's number. Deb can take care of children, Deb knows what to do and I know, since she's heard the news by now, she would want to help me take care of the one who lived. It rang five times before a voice that wasn't Deb's answered. The voice was male, shaky, and vaguely familiar. Justin's face popped into my mind and I realized that's who it was. "Justin?" There's a pause at the end of the line.

"…Brian?"

Gus is sobbing and I'm sure Justin can hear it. Wait. Justin babysitter ran through my head. "Justin." There's another small pause. "Brian." Justin could help. Justin knew Gus more then me, his own father, did. I suddenly wondered why Justin wasn't with his controlling half. "Hello?" I had almost forgotten that I had been on the phone, I had been thinking so hard. "Justin. I need you." There was another silence and then a small noise. I listened harder. "What?"

"What do you need me for?"

"Gus. I need help with Gus. I have so many fucking things to do right now…funeral arrangements and…fuck. Hold on a second."

I placed the phone down next to me on the sofa and let my head fall down on the back. I would not cry. I wouldn't. I'm Brian Kinney and I won't cry. I just sit there, listening to Gus's quieted down, muffled sobs for a few minutes before picking up the phone with shaky hands. "Still there?"

"…Yes."

"Can you help me?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Sure…I don't have a ride…I could ask Deb…"

"Thanks. She knows where my place is. Bye."

I quickly hang up before he can make an excuse not to say he'd help me. "Come on, Gus…please stop crying…please…" Gus whimpered that he wanted his mommies and my heart continued breaking into a million shattered pieces. I wanted his mommies too. I wasn't ready to be a father full time on top of everything else I had to do after the funeral was over. I owned a business, _Kinnetic_, I'm a very busy man, and I'm just not suitable to be a father. "Gus…Jus Jus is coming over…would that make you happier?" The boy was silent for a moment and then he nodded. Thank fucking god.

"Do you want something to eat?"

He shook his head.

"Something to drink?"

Again, he shook his head 'no'.

"Do you want anything?"

"Mommy and mama and Jus Jus and you."

I smile at him, holding him tightly, and kissed him on the cheek. I slowly tell him that someday, when we all go to Heaven mommy and mama will be there waiting for us. It seems to help a little bit but he doesn't let go. I don't blame him for being clingy. I'm basically the only parent he has left, the only family, besides Joan, that he has left. "Really?" I work up a smile and nod. "Really." He snuggles up against me and I let my head back down on the sofa and stare at the ceiling, using my hand to rub his back hoping that I'm doing a good job of comforting him. Then, to think about anything but my dead family, I wonder where he's going to sleep. This isn't a home. This is a loft. My loft. Not a child's place.

I'll think of something.

Before I know it I've been sitting on the sofa for thirty minutes, Gus is silently crying still and clinging onto me like he won't ever let me go, and then there's a knock on my door. I lift my head up and stand up, hugging Gus to my chest, and head towards the door. "That'll be Justin and Aunt Debbie." Gus said nothing and remained silent until I unlocked my door and a very wet, shivering Justin and a sad Debbie appeared. Then Gus squirmed in my arms calling out Justin's name and I told him to wait until Justin had dry clothes and handed him to Deb instead. I nodded at Justin. "Come with me."

He followed silently as I walked up onto my platform and rummaged through my dresser. I threw a long-sleeved, white shirt and jeans that would obviously be too long for him at him. "The bathroom's through there." I point and as he walks to go I quickly grab his wrist, gently but firmly, and keep him from going. He looks at me, he's confused. I can see it on his face, meshed with the sadness and pain he's feeling. "Thanks for doing this." He nods and mutters 'your welcome' and I let go of his wrist only to catch sight of it bruising slightly. I grab it again, even more gently then before, and stare at it for a moment.

"Did he do that to you?"

"…Uh – what? I-"

I cut him off and brought his wrist up to my face. It was bruising all around his pale, delicate skin where that man had grabbed him at the hospital. "Don't make excuses for him. Answer my fucking question." The blonde nodded and I inspected his wrist for a moment before letting go of it and letting it drop to his side. "I'll take care of him later." That said, I walked back into the living room where Debbie was telling Gus a story about when she was a child and her mom had died. She told him that even though she was sad for a while it got better because she knew her mom was up in the sky watching her from above and would always be there when she needed a mother to talk to.

"Did she talk back, Aunt Deb?"

I love Deb more then I ever have at this moment.

"Yep, she talked back. I'd have to listen really carefully, though, because she didn't talk out loud. She spoke to my heart."

She poked Gus right above his heart and he even smiled at her. I had no idea how I was ever going to thank Deb for helping me with Gus. Or Justin for that matter. Rubbing my face with my hand, I walk towards my computer, flip it on and wait for it to load. I have so much to do. I have to call the preacher, I have to get three gravestones ready, I have to find a place to get them buried. There's so much I have to do. There's so much I don't want to do. I never thought that there'd be a day when I was planning their funeral arrangements even though Mel had told me from the very start that Linds had decided to leave it all in my hands. Stupid. I can't do this shit.

I quickly go on the internet and start my search on grave sights. The most expensive grave sights. I want them to having the most expensive funeral on the map, the nicest funeral. They all deserve that much at least. Movement on the platform distracts me momentarily and Justin's standing there in my too big shirt and my too big jeans and he looks extremely – and, just for the record, I hate to think like this with all that's going on but my fucked up mind can't help it – cute. Adorable. Fucking hot. I mentally kill myself and quickly look at the computer when another page loads up of sights, more sights, and more grave sights. "I wanna go to Jus." I watch over the top of my monitor as Debbie places Gus on the ground and he all but runs over to Justin who's now kneeling on the ground with his arms open, ready for him.

Thank god someone here knows how to take care of him.

Fuck! I'm such a shitty father it makes me sick. Though, Lindsay always told me I wasn't.

She always told me I don't give myself enough credit when it came to Gus.

"What are you doin', Brian?"

Deb walks towards me, around the computer desk and then behind me and looks at the screen. She's silent for a moment and then places a hand on my shoulder. I almost shake it off but I don't because I know she's just trying to be there. Be there for me like she always is. "Brian…you don't have to do that now. You just got back from the hospital…" I beg to differ. "No, Deb, I do have to do this now. I don't want to put if off. I want to get this fucking over with…" Her hand doesn't leave my shoulder. "…I understand." I sigh and rest the side of my face in the palm of my hand that isn't controlling the mouse and stare tiredly at the screen. I'm so fucking tired and when I look over at Justin I can tell he's just as tired but he's now holding Gus, rocking him, anyway.

"Deb, can you do me a favor?"

_Another_ favor.

"…Sure, Brian. Of course."

"I need you to go to…their house. Get Gus's things…I have to do this so I can't."

No, I couldn't go because I'm too afraid. I couldn't go because I didn't want to face their happy home and know that nothing's going to be happy anymore having to do with them. I know Deb knows what I'm really thinking but she agrees to go anyway. She tells me she'll stop by after going to the store to get Sunshine, I'm guess she means Justin, some medicine. "Why does he need medicine?" I glanced over at him and he meets my gaze for a split second before quickly looking away and tending to Gus and whispering to him. Gus would whisper back, smiling slightly. Justin was just what I ordered. He was fucking perfect.

"Justin walked forty minutes in pouring down rain to get to the diner today. He's probably going to catch something if I don't get him some Anti-biotics in 'em."

"Why did he do that?"

Debbie sighed. "It's a long story." Brian leaned back in his computer chair and stared up at her. He was a nosy bastard and since this man/boy was watching his son didn't he have some right to know? Alright, no, he didn't but that was beside the point. Deb glares as me and looks over at Justin. I do too and he only nods and shrugs his shoulders at her. What the fuck, will someone just tell me what's going on? "Ethan picked him up from the hospital today –"

"I know" I say dryly. Oh, I know.

"To make it quick and simple, Ethan gets…physical at times and well, Sunshine couldn't take it anymore since Ethan was being such a bastard about…Mel and Linds so he walked out. He didn't have a car so he just walked to the diner."

Under any other circumstances, like, people not dying, I would've asked for the full story but I didn't this time. I just nodded and glared at my computer. For one, looking at grave sights was not my idea of fun and secondly, Ethan just pissed me off. Fucker. "I'll go get that stuff for you, Brian. See you soon, Justin."

"Bye, Deb."

Then she was gone.

I stared at the computer screen as hard as I could to avoid looking up and over at my son and Justin. "Uh…Brian?" Too bad. I have to. Sighing, I look up over the monitor again and meet the unsure eyes of Justin Taylor. The young, maybe too young, baby-sitter. "What?" He pauses for a moment; Gus is sitting on the floor looking up at the blonde expectantly. "Do you have any paper and crayons?" Shit. No. Fuck. See? I really am a shitty father. I don't even have _crayons_. Sighing, I stand up from my computer and pull on a jacket to run downstairs and ask the old women who lives below me; she has kids over at her home all the time, to ask her if she has any.

"I'll be right back."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

He actually sounds worried.

"Just downstairs to ask a friend if she has crayons and paper. That's what you asked for right?"

Justin only nodded and stood there in the middle of my floor. Again, my mind went haywire and decided to think about how nice and perfect Justin looked standing on my floor. How it looked like he belonged here even though he had never been here before. Nodding at him, I hurried out the door before my mind could run away with me even more, asked the women for crayons, got them and I handed them to Justin once I got back upstairs. I handed him a stack of paper that as sitting on my desk, I had plenty.

"Don't get any marks on the floor."

Nodding, Justin laid on his stomach on the floor next to Gus and they began coloring. Justin could actually draw, even though he wasn't actually trying hard to, and it looked fucking brilliant. "You're an artist." Justin looks up at me, surprised that I had been watching and then nods. "Yeah." Fuck. I should've already known that anyway since he had told the officer that Linds had helped him get into art college or whatever the fuck. "You're good."

"Thanks."

"How old are you?"

The question I've wanted to find an answer for.

"Nineteen."

Hmm. I'm twenty-four. There isn't that much of a gap between us. Five years. I only nod and go back to my research on the internet dreading every second I come across a picture of the cemetery. I dread the fact that soon, Mel and Linds and JR will be buried deep under the ground and ever seen again.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks for all the comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading! 


	4. Move Out

Hey kid, do wishes count at all  
Can you give me a sign? Give me anything.  
I won't tell a soul you told.  
Hey kid, can you hold me when you sleep  
Will you find me when the tide decides I got to leave  
**If God Made You - Five for Fighting**

* * *

**Brian**

* * *

"What do you guys want for dinner?"

I had been doing nothing but sitting on my ass staring at my computer screen. For hours I couldn't decided what cemetery to use for them. None of them seemed right and then I remembered that them being dead _wasn't_ right. I rubbed by tired eyes, they were burning and hurt like a motherfucker from staring at the screen for hours on end, and looked over at my son and his baby sitter. Justin was sitting on the sofa, Gus in his lap, and they were watching a move. 'The Yellow Submarine'. I hated that movie but they seemed to be entranced by it. Figured. I rolled my eyes when neither of them seemed to hear my question.

"Earth to the _children_ over there."

Neither of them replied, they were both totally wrapped up in the stupid movie. My eyes rolled again and I slipped away from my desk for the first time in a long while, I had been making Justin bring me drinks when I needed one – What can I say? I'm a slave driver. – and sauntered over to the sofa. Justin was bouncing Gus gently on his knee as they stared at the television screen like they had never seen the movies before. Gus was smiling, thumb in his mouth, and I smiled. At least he was happy for the moment. Usually I would tell him not to suck his thumb, that he was a big boy, but there was no way I was going to tell him that when he was actually content for the first time today.

I cleared my throat, loud and prominent. Justin jumped, startled, which caused Gus's eyes to tear away from the screen and the two of them looked up at me as if they were seeing me for the first time. They both looked at me, Justin questioningly and Gus…just looking. I sighed, rolled my shoulders to get the kinks out, and crossed my arms over my chest. "I asked you guys a question." Gus looked totally clueless, as did Justin. Gus looked remarkably adorable with the clueless look on his face but Justin looked totally…never mind. A subject that I **don't** need to get in to tonight.

"I asked what you guys wanted for dinner."

Justin shrugged and looked down at Gus.

"What do _you_ want for dinner, Gus?"

The children always got to pick what they wanted before everyone else. "Pizza." Figured. All children, unless they were insane or were allergic, always wanted pizza. It was like an unspoken rule between all children. A law that none of them dared to or even wanted to, break. "What kind?" I wasn't much of a pizza person myself but I was starving, though with the images of the deceased I wasn't sure how well I would eat, and I would do just about anything for Gus right now. The little boy stared back at the screen, watched it for a moment and I thought I lost him in TV world again, and then looked back up at me. "Cheese."

"Cheese it is. Is that fine with you?"

I stared pointedly at Justin, I wasn't sure if he was a cheese fan or not, and he nodded. "Sure – That's fine. Great." He quickly looked away and back at the screen when Gus pointed something out to him and I walked to the phone. Where the fuck is Deb anyway? She should've been here hours ago with Gus's things. Sighing, I called her first wanting to know where she was with my kid's shit. "Deb?"

"Oh, hey, Brian."

""Where the hell are you?"

"At the diner. They called me and they needed help. I got Gus's things…I just won't be able to run them down to your loft until later tonight."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Didn't the women ever take a break?

"Fuck, Deb, you shouldn't be working."

Justin looked over the back of the couch, twisting in a way that looked more then a little uncomfortable. "She's _working_?" I nodded and cursed at her again. "Well, someone's gotta do it." She replied. I heard a shout in the background shouting at Debbie to bring him his coffee. "Yeah, but not you. You could get someone else to do it." I listened to her sigh at the other end of the line; I heard the clinking sounds of cups banging against each other, the sizzling sounds of something cooking, and the loud voices of the happy customers. At least someone was happy tonight.

"This is my job."

"I don't give a fuck if it's your job."

I looked over at Justin who was still watching with as much interest as he had when he had been staring at the television a few minutes ago. "Sunshine, come talk some sense into this damn women's head. I need to change out of these fucking clothes." Justin carefully set Gus down on the couch telling him that he would be back in a minute and Gus nearly had a coronary, begging him not to leave him all alone and then Justin promised that he wouldn't and that he would be right over there where his daddy stood. It was only then that Gus silenced and watched the television screen huddled in the middle of the huge sofa. Justin strode over to where I stood. He looked like shit in his wrinkled clothes and unbelievably tired. I sighed into the phone and spoke before handing it over to Justin.

"I'll stop by tonight and get Gus's things. I need to go get Justin's clothes anyway."

Justin blinked. Then his eyes got all round and scared looking.

"Are you serious? I can get them _myself_."

I rolled my eyes and handed him the cordless phone.

"I don't think so. I'll get them. You can watch Gus while I'm gone."

"I won't tell you where I live."

"Fuck you won't. I'll ask Deb. You don't need to go over there alone anyway. I saw enough of his…fucked up mind today, thank you very much."

Without another word I began pulling off my shirt while making my way onto the platform. I threw it on the floor, for once not caring about littering my clothes on my usually clean floors. Next came my pants and then I was digging around in my dresser. I heard the click of the phone being placed back in its cradle. That was quick. Justin and Debbie hadn't talked for more then ten seconds. The padding of his feet coming up behind me as I pulled on a pair of jeans caused me to turn around with a raised eyebrow. Justin stood there, arms crossed over his chest in his protective sort of way and his eyes looked everywhere but at me. He was nervous, I could tell.

"Can I come with you?"

"What?"

"Can I come with you to get my clothes?"

I shook my head as I pulled a black tank top over my head.

"Fuck no."

"They're my clothes. _Please_?"

He had a point and his pleading was kind of heart wrenching. Sighing, I ran a hand furiously through my hair. "Fine. We'll stop by the diner first so we can leave Gus with Deb. I don't want to bring him…there." Justin nodded in understanding and he stood there, unmoving with his head bowed to the floor. Suddenly there was a tear rolling down his cheek and, fuck, I wished he wouldn't cry because then I would be tempted to wrap my arms around him again. I know I would give in to that temptation. I took a few awkward stops forward and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to me. "I'm sorry." I raised an eyebrow. Sorry? Like he had anything to be sorry for.

"…For?"

"Ethan acting like that the hospital."

"You don't have to apologize. _He_ should be apologizing."

Justin didn't say anything; he just stood there in my arms, his small shoulders shaking, his hands clinging onto the front of my shirt like no tomorrow, and his head buried in my chest. This was all kind of new to me, people crying and me willingly and nicely comforting people. Sure, I was used to "comforting" Michael all the time, he was demanding, always seeking attention and constantly needed comforting when something didn't go his way, but this was different. Justin actually _needed_ comfort for something _comfort worthy_. Sure, now Michael did too but he had his mother, he didn't need me. Justin, I'd like to think so anyway, needed me.

"Are you sure you wanna go?"

"…Yeah, I need to get my shit. I need my sketchbooks – he won't give them to you."

Fuck he wouldn't. He'd give me what I wanted and if he gave me any shit about it I would tear him to pieces. My hands strayed upwards into Justin's blonde strands of hair. I loved his hair. It was perfect, long, soft to the touch, and I just simply loved his hair. God, I'm such a lesbian. By the end of the night I'm going to notice how blue his eyes really are, how bright and shiny they get when he's about to cry, and how they grow just a bit lighter, how they flash, when he gets upset about something. Fuck – I _am_ already noticing these things. _Obviously_.

"He'll give me whatever I ask for."

"Ethan doesn't -"

"Ethan will give me what I ask for. Let's go. I'm fucking tired and want to get this over with."

I slowly push him away from me but his hands don't leave my shirt yet. They hang on tight and he stares up with me, his eyes red, puffy and wet. His nose is slightly pink from the sniffling during his crying episode and I almost offer him a tissue but I don't. I wonder if he's going to let me go soon because...he's still close, too close, and if he doesn't pull away, I know that I'll cave and kiss him. "Thanks." I only nod and breathe out a sigh of relief when he quickly let's go of my shirt and takes a few steps away from me. Then he's spinning around and pausing Gus's movie.

"Are you alright Jus Jus?"

"I'm ok, Gus. We're going to go see Aunt Debbie."

"We are? Why?"

I watch as Justin kneels down in front of Gus as he talks, watching as he talks to him, tells him we're going to go get some of his toys and clothes. "When are we getting pizza?" Shit. I had forgotten. I ran a hand through my hair and walked down off the platform and debated on what to do. We could always eat at the diner. They didn't usually make pizza but I'm sure Deb could pull some strings and make him one, or order him some pizza for that matter. "We'll get some at the diner, Gus." The little boy nodded and I gathered my wallet and keys off my computer desk, flipped the machine off and waited for Justin to pull on his shoes. I picked up Gus and the three of us walked out the door.

I couldn't wait for all this drama to start.

* * *

**Justin**

I was scared. I didn't want to go to Ethan's cruddy apartment even if Brian was going to be there with me. I didn't want to go anywhere near Ethan. He was a disgusting, vile prick and I had just found the courage to walk out on him and now I was going back. It's not like I would go back to him, never, but I had told myself when I had walked out that I would never go back _there_. I told myself that I would never go back to that…that…hell. I told myself that I would never look at Ethan again but now, here I was, about to go back to his apartment so Brian could get my clothes.

Which leads me to another thought.

Brian.

I had seen his so-called "heartless" side back in his loft. But it wasn't the bad kind of heartless. Yes, there is such a thing. I had figured Brian was a self-involved asshole. Mel had always told me that he was a narcissistic bastard that cared for himself and only for himself. She was wrong. Yeah, Brian was heartless, I could tell when he talked about Ethan while he held me, for the second time that day, on his platform but he also didn't only care about himself. For one, he cared about his son. I can tell when he glances over at his son, when he hands him over to me or Debbie when we reach the diner. He's in love with his son no matter how much he tried to convince people he isn't.

He also cares about _me_.

I saw the concerned looks while we were at the hospital; I saw the caring but worried look on his face when I started crying on his platform. I heard his concern when he talked to me and I definitely felt it when he hugged me and when his fingers _caringly_ stroked my hair and the back of my neck. Maybe I'm just kidding myself, maybe I'm just wishing and hoping for things since Ethan never, except in the very, very beginning, treated me like that. Like he actually cared. But I don't think I'm kidding myself, I think that, despite what Mel said, that Lindsay was right. That he just has a problem with actually caring about people because of his mother and father. I don't know that story, I had never asked, but I was curious.

"Deb, do you mind feeding him? I was gonna order pizza but it…"

He looked over at me for a quick second and then back at Deb.

"It slipped my mind."

Debbie bounced Gus in her lap. "No problem. What do ya want, kid?"

"Pizza."

"I can work something out. Joe! Make this kid some pizza! Pronto!"

"Thanks, Deb."

"No, problem. You and Sunshine go tell that bastard who's boss."

I smile weakly over at her and follow Brian out the door into the chilly night. I cross my arms and follow him back to his jeep. He turns to meet my eye. "This is your last chance. You still comin'?" I nod and offer him a, what I hope is a, reassuring smile. "Yeah. I'm sure. Let's make this quick." He nods, looking slightly disturbed about all of this, about me coming actually. There is was again. I think he cares. We get into his keep, I give him the directions to Ethan's rundown apartment building and we drive off.

"Do you have a key?"

I looked over at Brian, hesitant look on my face.

"What?"

"Do you have a key? Just incase he isn't home."

I nodded and reached into my pocket. We were walking up the stone steps, he was all the way on the fifth floor, because the elevator didn't look very safe and, I know it isn't safe. They hadn't checked the elevator to see if it needed repairs in years. With a small sigh I handed him the key that would lead us into Ethan's apartment. Hell. "You can wait here if you want." I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him to a quick stop. "Brian. I'm fine. Really. He won't do anything with you there _anyway_." Brian nodded towards my bruised wrist and I realized my hand was still gripped onto his arm.

"He did that in front of me."

"That's not the worst he can do."

"Well, it makes me feel _so_ much better knowing that he was feeling nice today and _could've_ done worst."

Sarcasm dripped off his words in tidal waves and I quickly let go of his arm and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, well, it made me feel better." I wasn't sure but I think he winced slightly at my words. I immediately wished I hadn't said them but it was too late. He was already asking the dreaded question. "What else has he done to you?" I narrow my eyes at him and take a few small steps away from him. "That's none of your fucking business."

"I was just asking. I'm…"

I raised an eyebrow. I felt a little bad for snapping at him like that.

"You're what? What, do you feel _sorry_ for me? I don't need your…your…pity."

He watched me for a minute and I told myself that I should've kept my mouth shut, that he didn't feel sorry for me, that he only worried about me because he **cared**. I stare right back at him, forcing myself to not duck my head and stare at the ground, ashamed for snapping at the man who's doing all that he can to help me. Maybe I'm acting like a bastard because of everything that's happening today. The three closest people to me died, I walked out on my boyfriend of two years, and now I'm watching this gorgeous man's son and having these stupid feelings when he's around. That's a lot for one day.

"I don't feel sorry for you. I only want…"

I watched him curiously.

"You only want what?"

"To get this fucking exchange over with. Let's go."

I had a feeling that's not exactly what he wanted to say but I didn't ask questions. I only followed him down the long, seemingly never-ending hallway until we pulled to a stop in front of door number ten. "This is it?" I nod but don't say anything. I don't think I can. My mouth is glue shut and so dry. I gulp and I bet Brian can hear it although he doesn't let on that he does. I watch in silent horror as he pounds on the door one, two, three times. We wait three seconds, five seconds, ten seconds and then the door swings open to reveal my ex in all his drunken glory.

"I knew you'd come back."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust and stepped back when he reached out to grab me. Brian quickly stepped forward, body towering over his once again and blocking me from him. "Long time no see." Ethan stepped back and glared up at Brian, eyes slightly confused as to why he's here and why he hadn't noticed him standing next to me before. God, he was really drunk. "What the…" Brian smirked and pushed forward stepping into the dirty apartment.

"Don't worry – It's free to curse. My son's not here."

He walks fully inside, eyes scanning the apartment before turning to me. I'm still standing outside the apartment. I don't think I can bring myself to walk in there. "Come on, Sunshine. Let's get packin'." Ethan looks between me and Brian over and over again as if he's trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together as to what is going on before his very eyes. "What the fuck is…going on?" He's swaying slightly, beer bottle in hand, and I wonder how the hell he can still speak this coherently. How he can speak at all for that matter. I slowly step into the apartment and make my way towards Brian and kind of stand behind him.

I'm a coward but I never said I wasn't. Brian smiled at Ethan.

"We're just collecting his belongings…_if_ you don't mind."

"Actually, I…d-_do_ mind."

I step forward slightly. "You're drunk. Give me the bottle." It's still half full and I don't think he needs to drink anymore. I don't care how much I hate him, I don't care how big of an asshole he is, and I'm not going to let him drink himself to sleep or maybe even death. He laughed at me; his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Are you kidding me. Fuck no." He took a long gulp from the bottle and the bottle was emptied. There probably wasn't even a drop left inside. I take another step forward, glaring at him.

"You are so _stupid_."

"Me? I'm stupid? You're the one who left."

Brian stepped forward. He was back in front of me.

"Yeah, and with good reason."

"You can stay out of this."

Ethan took a step towards Brian. He was trying to act all macho, tough and strong but he didn't look like he was at all. He looked like a stupid bastard who was drunk out of his mind. I rubbed my face with my hand and peeked out between my fingers. I wished I hadn't come here after all. I should've listened to Brian. "I won't stay out of this because you're-" Brian pointed at him while taking menacing steps towards the shorter man. "A fucking abusive asshole." Ethan lets out a small sound of shock.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

He turns to me.

"You're staying here."

Brian walked closer, which made Ethan take a few steps back and into the wall behind him.

"No, he's coming with me. You and him are _over_."

I grabbed Brian's wrist with both my hands just incase he decided to do something rash. Just incase he decided to beat the shit out of Ethan if he made one more single wrong move. Brian looked down at me and then back over at Ethan. "Now shut up so we can get his clothes." Ethan's mouth was in the form of a small 'O' at the shock of Brian speaking to him in such a violent tone. But he did as he was told and stood firmly against the wall and watched as I began piling the few articles of clothing that I had on the bed next to the dresser. Suddenly, without warning, there was a loud crash right above my head. He had thrown his empty beer bottle at me. Thank fucking God he was drunk or he might've gotten me.

Brian was fucking irate.

"You fucking prick."

In one swift move, Brian had walked to where Ethan stood, wrapped a strong hand around his neck and pinned him tightly against the wall. Brian's face leaned in close to his, their noses almost touching while I crouched down, careful not to move my feet, and began picking up the shards of glass. I can't believe he did that. I guess I should though, he's thrown glasses at me before but I thought that if Brian was here…things would be slightly different. They weren't. "How bout I get a glass and bash it ver your head? Would you like it?

Ethan didn't reply. He remained quiet. Brian looked over at me.

"Finish packing your shit. Do it _fast_."

I did as he told me. My clothes were soon all packed away in a large duffel bag and I began to scurry around the apartment looking for the most important item that I owned. My sketchbooks. They carried the best sketches I had ever done, the sketches that Lindsay had helped me with, the only sketches I had of Mel and JR. They meant so much to me and they even meant more now that they were all gone. "Ethan? Where are my sketchbooks?"

A sick amused smile popped up on his face despite the fact Brian's hand was still around his neck.

"First, I ripped all the pages into shreds. Then, I burned them. All."

I felt my eyes start to well up. "What? Please tell me you're lying." Ethan shook his head the best he could with Brian's grip there. That same sick smile was still decorating his face. I pushed my hand through my hair and my eyes scanned the apartment hoping that he was lying and that he wasn't serious and that he was only saying that to bring me down. I met his eyes again though my vision was blurred. "No you didn't."

"Oh, I did. I _hated_ them."

"…No."

"I hated those stupid…whores."

Suddenly he was on the floor, unconscious, with a bleeding face. Brian had knocked him down in one swift punch to the nose, I felt really sick when I heard it crack, when the comment had been said. Brian looked down at the body, anger mixed with grief. Brian hadn't cried all day since he had been in the hospital, not in front of me anyway, and I don't know how he did it. Now, though, I think he's had enough. He turned to me, face expressionless except for his eyes. If I wasn't mistaken, it was hard to tell with my own eyes blurry, his eyes had tears in them too. "Are you ready to go?" I simply nod, grab my duffel, and follow him out the door. As soon as we're inside the jeep I burst out crying.

I feel like such a fag.

"Justin."

I don't answer him. I stare straight ahead of me. I know it might seem…stupid to cry over losing my sketches but I don't think it's stupid. Those were memories. Memories of Mel and Linds and JR and now I didn't have them. I didn't have a camera so I drew them while we were sitting around the house, I drew them while they were talking, laughing, playing with Jenny. Those were photographs to me and they could never be replaced. I jump when I feel a hand land on my shoulder and pull me against Brian's side. He presses my face into the crook of his neck and I cry. It's not until an hour later when I pull away with a runny nose and sore, red eyes that I realize that Brian had been crying too.

I didn't say anything and neither did he.


	5. Pictures

Hush  
It's okay  
Dry your eyes  
Dry your eyes  
Soulmate dry your eyes  
Dry your eyes  
Soulmate dry your eyes  
Cause soulmates never die  
**Placebo – Sleeping With Ghost**

* * *

**Justin**

After leaving Ethan's in complete silence Brian drove us back to the diner. Despite the time, there were tons of people milling around Liberty Avenue, as usual, and even more people in the diner. All the booths were crowded, including one with the black-haired man I had seen at the hospital earlier today – Michael I think his name is- and some other men that I recognized but didn't exactly know. Mel and Linds had introduced me to the flamboyant one – Emmett? – and the stiff accountant one. I think he's Ted but I can't really remember. "How'd it go, boys?"

Debbie was already around the counter, momentarily forgetting all about the orders that she had to bring her hungry customers, and coming towards me and Brian with a worried expression on her face. Brian sighs and stares at her with an exhausted look. "He's asshole." This only raised the bar on her 'Worry Stick'. "What'd he do?" Brian, I'm not sure if it was a conscious thing or not, placed a hand on the back of my neck. "He was drunk out of his mind and he tried to hit Justin with a beer bottle." Debbie gasped slightly, her face showing how irate she was. She was always irate when I told her about something Ethan did. Brian continued. "And he…" I avoided all eye contact with him and Deb and, instead, stared at the ground.

Like usual.

"He destroyed Justin's sketches of Mel, Linds and Jenny."

If it wasn't dark outside I'm sure Deb would've ditched her shift and gone straight over to Ethan's and done him in. If he had woken up from his unconscious state yet, that is. "That fucking prick. I should bring him some poisoned food. Bastard." Brian shook his head and I could hear the small smirk in his voice. "He wouldn't be able to eat right now, Deb."

"What'd you do to him?"

"Let's just say that when he wakes up he's goin' to feel like shit. Where's Gus?"

"He's in the back with Joe. I'll go get him."

Brian nods and, with his hand still cupped around the back of my neck, he leads me to where Michael, Ted and complete strangers sit. It's weird, I knew Lindsay for three years, and I had never met any of these people. Shit. Michael was staring at me like I was some abomination. Like I was the enemy. Then I remembered that I thought I was the enemy too, though Brian's convincing kind of set my mind in the direction where I didn't blame myself. Michael's expression started to point me in the direction of "It's my Fault Land". Emmett, I remember meeting him once before, smiled at the two of us. If Michael had told him that everything was my fault he didn't let on.

Emmett smiled sympathetically at me.

"Hey, baby, come sit down."

He had been nice to me the last time I had seen him too. I smiled tiredly at him and slid into the booth. Brian slid in next to me, his hand still there on my neck, and we made ourselves comfortable. Well, as comfortable as we could be in these booths. Ted looked at us. He looked even more tired then Brian and I did. I'm not sure if he feels more tired then I do though. "Justin right?" I only nod and look over at Michael. His eyes are still on me; he's not making any attempt to 'secretly' glance at me. I quickly look away and meet the kind eyes of a tall, tan man with short wavy brown hair. He holds a hand out to me, he's sitting next to Michael and I can see a flash of irritation across his eyes at the man's kindness, with a smile.

"I'm Ben."

"Justin."

I quickly shake his hand before returning it to my lap. Shit. Here it comes.

"_I'm_ Michael."

He holds out his hand and I'm not sure I want to shake it but I do since I don't want to come off as impolite. He squeezes harder then necessary and it kind of hurts. "…Justin." I quickly pull my hand away and return it to my lap and quickly look away. Everyone at the table seems slightly uncomfortable now that Michael's talking. Yeah, and he's not done yet. "I'm Jenny's father." I hear a low whistle out of Emmett's mouth, I can feel Brian shift and tense next to me, Ben looks at everything but our table, and Ted rolls his eyes and stares down at a newspaper from this morning. I meet Michael's eyes, swallow, and nod.

"I…know."

"Yeah, you know _a lot_ of things."

He's obviously referring to me knowing Chris Hobbs. The murderer of his daughter and two friends. Emmett immediately looks across the table and begins a quiet conversation with Ted. The accountant looks relieved that he no longer has to pay attention to Michael's venomous words. I only blink. I don't know what to say. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Luckily, I don't have to say anything since Brian's pissed enough as it is and this is apparently making him angrier. "Michael, shut the fuck up." Michael's eyes waver over to Brian, surprised and even some hurt on his face.

"So you're defending **him**? He's a-"

_Murderer_.

Even if it wasn't me that did the murdering. Brian cut him off before he could say it though.

"I said shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think I do. I can't believe you Brian. You're _son_ got hurt because of him."

That was a blow to my already fragile emotions. I close my eyes for a few seconds before opening them to stare down at the table. I pretend that I'm not here, I tell myself not to listen, I tell myself that this isn't true and that none of this is my fault. Brian kind of confirms my thoughts. "It wasn't his fault." Michael snorts and Ben ushers a quiet 'Calm down' at the ex-father. "I don't have to calm down. Fuck, Brian, you don't know what you're talking about. His naivete is blinding you." I feel Brian's hand clench around my neck slightly. It hurts but at the same time it's comforting because, again, it tells me that he cares.

"You're being an asshole. None of this shit is Justin's fault. I know you're upset but you aren't going to blame all of this on him. It's not his fault that he happens to know a fucking mental patient. So shut your fucking mouth."

I begin to bite on my bottom lip. Sadly, Michael's not done yet. If it had been me Brian was shooting death glares at and speaking to me in that threatening voice I would've shut up immediately.

"I bet he's not _shutting his mouth_. Is that why you're keeping him around?"

What? He was an asshole. I don't even know why Brian's friends with him. He was obviously jealous. Jealous of the fact that Brian was sticking up for me, defending me and keeping me at his place tonight. Michael and his jealous nature were bound to think that something sexual was going out between Brian and me. Sure, it crossed my mind but any man who could see would let it cross their mind. I glare at him. I was tired of his…fucking attitude.

"Fuck you."

I may have said it louder then I thought.

The whole diner had quieted down. Debbie, who was now holding Gus, looked over at me from behind the counter. Suddenly Brian was standing up, pulling me up after him, grabbing his son and we were out of the diner before I could even register what was happening. As soon as Gus was settled in his seat and Brian was sitting next to me in the passenger seat next to me, the door slammed shut loud and…loud. He was practically steaming with anger. I stared out the windshield. I hadn't meant to burst out like that and I suddenly wished I hadn't. I didn't want to make enemies…or make my enemies even more pissed at me. Brian started the engine and the first ten minutes of the drive were silent. I broke it.

"I'm sorry."

My voice sounded really loud in the quiet car.

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

"I didn't mean to yell at him like that."

Brian scoffed and I took a quick glance at him. He was glaring daggers at the windshield.

"You had every right to be pissed."

He was right so I shut up.

* * *

**Brian**

I couldn't believe that shit.

I couldn't believe, no, I could believe it but I didn't want to, that Michael was being such an asshole. You'd think he'd be doing what any father who had just lost their daughter would be doing. Mourning. Not accusing an innocent person for three people's deaths and then going on to practically call him a whore. Justin was far from being a whore. If anyone, I was the whore here and I didn't even do that much. I did enough to be a slut. I picked up a trick about…once a week. I knew people who did a lot more then that a night. A few years ago I used to be one of those studs who fucked everything that walked…then Gus happened. But that was beside the point – Michael was being a fucking asshole.

Deb even looked pissed at him and she hadn't even been there for the whole word exchange.

"It's time for bedtime, Gus."

Justin picked Gus up off the couch, he had been occupying himself by watching late night cartoons, and held him against his lip. I looked back at my computer. I was still in search of a cemetery. I should've gone to bed as soon as we got home but I had decided against it. For some reason I wanted to put off sleep as long as possible. I had to get this done. "Where is he gonna sleep?" Shit. I had forgotten about that. I looked around my loft. I didn't have anywhere for my son to sleep. Reason number five thousand on why I'm a bad father. "_Shit_ – just put him on my bed."

Justin nodded and he disappeared up onto my platform.

Then the blue lights were shut off.

Then the kitchen lights since they were so bright.

Then every light was off, Justin's doing, until the only glow in the loft was from my computer. I yawned, wrote down the number of a cemetery that was worthy enough for the three deceased. I still wasn't happy with it but I wouldn't be happy with anything it would seem. This would have to do. Yawning again, I shut down my computer and gathered a few photos that I had kept in my desk drawer. There was a whole big stack and they were all of Mel, Linds and Jenny Rebecca. Gus was in many of them and I had tons more where these came from. I rolled my chair back and walked towards where Justin sat in the corner of the sofa. He was staring off into space, biting his thumbnail, and his knees pulled up under him and his other arm crossed across his chest.

I sat down next to him and broke into his thoughts.

"Here."

He took the picture from me, stared at the first one for a moment, and then looked at me. "What?" I motioned towards the pictures. "They're pictures of them. You can have them since you don't have any." He seemed hesitant to look at them, much less take them from me for good. Slowly, Justin began looking at each one, pausing at each one for a certain amount of time, and then going to the next one. I don't know how he could see them in the dark, maybe that's why he would pause for so long on each one, but, even though I couldn't see it, I heard him sniffle and I knew he was crying. Albeit quietly.

"…Thanks."

He's looking at me now. That I can see because his eyes are so blue and bright. Wet and shiny. Suddenly he's crying for the third time today. I carefully take the pictures from him, reach across him and set them on a side table, and then hold him again. I can't help myself. Sure, maybe I'm taking advantage of him when he cries just so I can have an excuse to have him against me like this but I don't care. I could be doing a lot worst things…like trying to seduce him or something. I don't think I could seduce someone like him though. He's too…special. I call myself a lesbian and only concentrate on the sound of him crying silently in my ear and the sniffling noises that his nose is making. And how his hair smells like fruit despite the fact that he probably hasn't had a shower since this morning. I breathe in his scent. I could get used to it.

When he's dried out I push him away, I don't want to but I do.

"Your welcome."

Then I do something. Something that's probably not very smart. Something that I've been wanting to do to the blonde since I saw him in the hospital. I lean forward, I don't have to lean forward very much since we're already really close, and my lips meet his. Surprisingly and to my relief, he doesn't pull away. It's a soft, lingering, probably slightly comforting too, kiss. There's no tongue involved. That's probably a first for me, kissing someone without tongue. And as much as I don't want to, I pull away, my hand had somehow made it to the back of his head, fingers buried in his hair, to keep him in place.

He doesn't say anything and, at first, neither do I.

I expect him to be mad or shocked or something. But he's not. He only smiles at me. A small, nervous, shy smile. I respond by giving him one more, short peck on the lips and pulling him up off the couch.

"Let's go to bed. You need your rest."

I do too. So I lead both of us to the bed that Gus is sleeping soundly in and I quickly tell Justin that he can go ahead and sleep here, on the left side of Gus and I make myself comfortable on his right side. We're both careful not to move the bed too much so we don't accidentally wake him up. Once we're both situate, the only noise I hear is Gus's deep breathing and Justin's soft breathing, I reach across my son and grab Justin's hand, fingers entwining and I fall asleep. Fuck, I was tired.

* * *

**Debbie**

"You had no right to say those things."

I was sitting at the booth with my son, Emmett, Ted, and Ben. As soon as Brian had left, without Gus's things, I had made it my business to see what had set Brian off and what had made Justin yell out his obscene comment towards my upset son. Emmett had quickly told me what had happened, sending disproving looks over at Michael in the process as he gave it to me word for word. Michael was pissed, arms crossed over his Captain Astro shirt, and a bratty frown on his face. I frowned over at my son who met my gaze headon. He looked slightly ashamed. If his daughter hadn't just died I would've gone off on him but I didn't have the energy and I was sure he didn't have the energy to take it anyway.

"It better not happen again. Sunshine's good person and none of this is his fault. I've got to get back to work."

Michael rolled his eyes. He was, I guessed, probably tired of everyone telling him that Justin was a good person, that it wasn't Justin's fault, that he just needed to give Justin a break and concentrate on getting his daughter's things and whatnot. I looked apologetically at my son. This was a day of reckoning. Everyone's lives had been changed this morning even if they hadn't been close to Mel and Linds. They had all been friends with them so everyone was in mourning. I was trying all I could to distract myself and if that meant working extra hours then so be it. The others quickly left the diner, Ted saying he had to work in the morning, Emmett telling her that he wanted to try and get some sleep, and Ben telling them that he needed to go to bed too.

"Ma, I'm sorry."

"Mikey…I'm not the on you need to be saying sorry to."

He rolled his eyes. He looked like shit, he was exhausted. Everyone was.

"I know."

I sat down across from my distraught son.

"Honey, I know things are hard right now. They're hard for everyone, not just you. But you can't take that on anyone just because you're upset. Things will get better but not if you keep acting like…this."

I watched him as he held back tears.

"How can things get better, ma? They're dead."

"When Vic died things got better didn't they? Everything's fine. This'll get better too, Mikey. Yeah, we'll all be sad for a while but then we'll realize that they're in a better place instead of this fucked up world."

I missed Vic all the time but I was right, things had gotten a lot better since then. I got up from the booth, patting my son's hand.

"Now I've got to get back to work. Love you."

"Love you too, ma."

"Remember what I said."

He nodded, sliding out of the booth and heading towards the door.

"I will."

Somehow I doubted he would digest it anytime soon though.


	6. In My Arms

You gave me all your love in one day  
You gave it all and almost faded away  
I'm going to take this sad and unread issue  
In my arms tonight  
**In My Arms – Rufus Wainwright**

* * *

**Brian**

About the time that I'm starting to wake up my cell phone rings. Ignore or answer? The ring tone is the one I set for Michael and, after how he acted last night, I'm not sure I want to talk to the asshole. I tell myself that he's upset about the loss of his daughter, that he didn't mean those things that he said, and that all of this will blow over with time. I try and believe myself. Groaning, I pull my hand out of Justin's, I don't even know how they stayed connected all night long since I usually moved when I slept, and reached over on the floor and picked up the ringing cell.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I need to talk to you."

"You are."

I hear him sigh on the other end of the line.

"This would be better if we were face to face."

"I think I'd rather be ear to ear."

I glance over at the two sleeping boys. Gus is still sleeping soundly, Justin's arm wrapped around him now that my hand had been forced to pull away. My son sighed, turned over and burrowed himself against the sleeping blonde. I couldn't help but be just a _little_ jealous. Then I remembered I kissed him last night. Shit. That had probably been a mistake. I never know when to keep my mouth to my self. He'll probably be freaked out when he wakes up, unusually shy and isolate himself from me. Fuck. I really should've kept my comfort techniques to myself.

"I know you're pissed at me, Brian and-"

"Pissed? I'm fucking outraged! You had no right to say the things you said. Just so you know – You aren't the only one who lost someone yesterday, Mikey. We all did,"

Michael let out a sigh and tried to cut me off. I ignored him.

"You need to let out your anger elsewhere."

My best-friend was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Bri-"

"Why the _fuck_ are you apologizing to me for? You didn't accuse _me_ of murder."

I'm sure Michael's about to hang up, just forget the whole thing but he doesn't. He just stays silent as if he's thinking about what to say next. He's probably trying to choose his words carefully so that he doesn't piss me off even more. "About that…" I roll my eyes. He's always had such a way with words and I wasn't in the mood for it. "Yeah, about that, Michael, you need to say sorry to **him**." I fall back down on my back and rub my eyes with my free hand. It's too early for this shit. That's when I remember – I need to get started on picking out the date for the funeral. I feel a twinge in my stomach.

"I meant what I said."

I want to kill the bastard on the other end of the phone.

"None of this is his fault."

"Then answer me this: Would they be dead right now if Justin hadn't known them?"

I don't know how to answer that question and he knows it. I lighten my grip on my phone. I had been gripping it so tightly it had started to hurt. Plus, I didn't want to break my phone.

"Fuck you, Mikey and don't call here again."

With that I hung up on him. The phone immediately started ringing again. Michael again. I cursed and turned my phone completely off. Then my house phone started to ring. "Fuck!" Now eternally pissed off, I got out of my bed and walked towards the phone and picked it up. "I said fuck you." Just as I was about to hang up a female voice spoke up. "…I'm sorry?" I pressed two of my fingers to my temple. I really need to fix my called ID.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Oh, that's alright. Um…is this Brian Kinney?"

"Yeah, who's this."

I can almost feel her hesitation seeping through the phone.

"Uh, is Justin there? I need to talk to him."

"Who is this?"

I felt the need to monitor all callers. For all I knew this was some stranger who wanted to blame him for the death of three people. "Tell him it's Daphne. I'm his best-friend. He'll want to talk to me." I tell her to hold on a minute and that I have to wake him up. Sighing, I set the phone down on the table and walked back up onto my platform. The blonde's already starting to wake up, his eyes fluttering open and squinting against the sunlight peeking into my loft. Gus is still sound asleep. I stand over him and wait for the nineteen-year-old to get fully adjusted to the light. When he does he looks at me and looks, just as I expected, shy.

"You have a phone call."

"…Who?"

"Some girl named Daphne."

I had never seen someone move so quick. I watch as the blonde scurries out of the bed, careful not to wake Gus, and hurry off the platform and towards the phone. I slowly follow deciding to let my son sleep for as long as he wants to. Then I ask myself a question. How the fuck did this Daphne girl get my home phone number? "Daphne?" I watched as Justin smiled a real actual smile and practically hugged the phone. I guessed he missed her or something.

"I missed you too."

Pause. His smile slowly disappears.

Fuck – I hope something else didn't happen.

"…We broke up."

Oh. Ethan fucking Gold. I think I heard a squeal of delight on the other end of the phone. I'm not sure though. If I did then I guess Daphne hated the bastard just as much as I do. Justin walks towards the couch, suddenly not looking so happy, and sinks down onto it. I slowly and hesitantly follow. What can I say? I'm a nosy little fucker. I like to know what's going on. I sink down next to him, he doesn't even acknowledge me and plays with the hem of his shirt instead.

"I'll be fine…"

He didn't sound like he would be fine.

"I…I don't know."

Justin paused, pulled the phone away from his ear, and looked at me.

"Daphne was wondering if she could stop by and see me. She's been in Vermont with her boyfriend so I haven't seen her for three weeks and…well…Ethan never really let me see her that much…"

I felt another flare of anger and quickly nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll give her the directions."

Justin quickly handed the phone to me and watched my every move as I talked to Daphne and then gave her the directions to my loft. After I hung up the two of us sat there in an awkward silence. I didn't want things to be awkward. I only kissed him. We didn't have to be awkward. We **shouldn't** have to be awkward. Sighing, I turn over so I'm sitting sideways on the couch and facing him. He does the same as if we're about to have an important discussion and leans his lower back against the armrest of the couch. He doesn't meet my eyes though. Instead of he focuses them on the leather of the couch.

"Justin, about…last night…"

A light pink blush creeps up onto his cheeks.

His eyes are still trained on the couch.

"I didn't mean to 'throw' myself at you or anything. It just sort of…_happened_. I'm…sorry ( _No, I'm fucking not sorry, it was fucking amazing_ ) if I upset you."

Justin finally looks up and meets my gaze. He looks slightly confused and I have no idea what there is to be confused about. He quickly shakes his blonde head, hair moving in tune with his head, and offers me a small smile. "You didn't upset me…and you **didn't** throw yourself at me. I…didn't mind it at all." His cheeks probably turned a hundred shades darker at the "confession" and despite the things I knew I was going to have to do today ( _Fucking funeral arrangements_ ) I couldn't help but smile.

"Good."

I lean forward, hesitantly, and ask a question without using my voice. I want to kiss him. I want to make it last longer then it had last night. Fuck, I know I want to do more then kiss him but I won't because…I can't take advantage over him. Am I taking advantage over him right now? He's depressed, sad and wants to feel wanted…I tell myself I'm not taking advantage of him. That would be wrong. To answer my question, he places a hand on my knee and brings his face closer to mine. Score. I watch as his eyes quickly flicker from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes again and I quickly press my mouth against his so we both don't have to wait any longer. "Mmm…"

That sound coming out of his mouth from just this simple connection of our lips nearly undoes me. I can only imagine the sounds he would make if I had him on his back, his legs over my shoulders and my cock up his ass. I dismiss the thought, said dick enjoying the mental images more then I want it to at the moment, and focus only on giving this man the best kiss that he's ever had in his life. I'm slightly surprised when his tongue slides into my mouth first but I quickly get over the surprise and press my mouth harder against his and burrow my hands in his silky hair to keep his head from going anywhere. His hands both slide up from my knees, up the outside of my thighs and then stop at my hips.

He's practically in my lap now and I don't particularly mind it.

I shove my tongue eagerly into his mouth eager for his sweet taste. Although he hasn't brushed his teeth yet this morning his mouth still tasted…wonderful. I tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth, his own teeth grazed my tongue as it searched every crevice of his perfect mouth…and to think that The Fiddler probably abused it with his fist at some point in their fucked up relationship. My hand slides down his back and cups his ass. My hand couldn't resist giving it a light squeeze. He obviously wasn't ready for it, his mouth gasped into mine and he fell forward slightly. His arms squeezed tightly around my neck, his body basically hanging onto me while on his knees. I smile against his lips, squeeze harder and force him onto my lap.

Needless to say, my dick's _very_ happy right now.

I know I said, well thought to myself, that I wasn't going to fuck him. I don't even know if he'd let me fuck him but if he would let me I'm not sure I'd be able to stop myself now. I can't stop myself from gripping both his hips and grinding him down on my erect cock, my hips rising up to greet the friction. He gasps into my mouth again and it nearly makes me come in my pants, him gasping into my mouth…it sounds so fucking sexy. I pull away, pushing him down on my again. I watch hungrily as his head falls back, lips parting to let out another wonderful gasp and his hands tighten in my hair. He looks so fucking wanton.

I have to fuck him.

**Now**.

I attack his neck with my lips and teeth, his beautiful neck despite a few light, and healing, bruises scattered across the skin. I don't know why I didn't notice them before but I wish I hadn't because…I suddenly feel like killing someone. Someone Ethan. I kick him out of my mind, I slow down my lips and brush them over each bruise, attending to each one with a lick of my tongue and a light kiss wishing I had the power to make them disappear. He grinds into me of his own accord breaking me out of my tender mantra of kisses and my teeth nip onto a patch of skin, hopefully not on a bruised spot, and he groans. So. Fucking. Hot. So. Fucking. Beautiful.

"You're so fucking…_hot_."

I feel the need to tell him so. Probably because I know Ethan probably never told him. _Fuck_ – Why do I keep bringing him up? It's me and Justin. Justin and I. Ethan can go fuck himself. I lift one of my hands from his hips and grab the back of his head gathering a fist full of hair and push his head back down so I can reach his lips once again. My tongue slides along his jaw, over his lips and I sink me teeth down on his swollen bottom lip before taking his mouth captive with mine again. I don't think I've been this horny since…fucking forever. I can't even remember if I've been this horny before. Probably not. I don't think my cock has ever been this hard either for _that_ matter.

I tear my lips away from his and tend to the lobe of his ear.

"I'm gonna fuck you…I'm gonna fuck you all night."

Well – morning. But it may lead into night.

His ass grinds into my cock again and, fuck, I can't wait any longer. Our clothes have to disappear now before I fucking get overheated. I grab the hem of his shirt from the back and begin to life it before…yeah, you guessed it, the great interruption that always comes when things are getting fucking hot.

"Daddy?"

My lips and hands immediately still, Justin stiffens in my lap and pulls his face away from my neck where he had been running his tongue. I quickly look towards my bedroom. Thank God Gus called me from my room and didn't walk out here. I don't think I would've wanted him to witness the two of us in a beyond horny state. I sigh in disappointment and lower my forehead onto Justin's chest, more on his collar bone, and his chin rests on my head as he lets out his own sigh of sexual frustration and disappointment.

"I'll be right there, Sonny Boy."

God. This wasn't fucking fair. I feel Justin's chin lift up off my head and his hands cradle my face and lift it up so he can look me in the eyes. He places a small peck on my lips and it takes every ounce of self-control to not ravage him all over again. "Later." I nod and playfully push him off my lap and get up off the couch. I tell my dick to go away. Well, not away completely. That would ruin my life but I want it to calm down. I need to calm down. I slowly walk towards the platform, stalling and thinking of my mom fucking my dad. Fuck – the things I do to not be horny. And it works like a charm.

I smile at my son when I walk onto the platform.

"What's wrong?"

Still smiling, I get on the bed and crawl until I'm sitting next to him and holding him in my arms. I can't help but think that maybe him breaking into our ass grinding was a sign saying 'Back off, Kinney! You can't fuck him!' or something like that. Fuck that. No one can tell me who I can and can't fuck. "I miss mommy." I run my hand through his hair and kiss him lightly on the head. "Me too, me too." Gus looks up at me, his little arms wrap around me as much as they can and I pull him as close as possible. We sit there in complete silence for about five minutes until a loud knock on the door brings me back into the real world.

"Who's that daddy?"

"It's probably Justin's friend, Daphne. She's visiting him."

Gus scrambled off my lap to greet the guest and I did as well. I wanted to meet this Daphne that was so important to Justin's life. I walked towards the door seeing as Justin sat on the sofa, eyes watching me as I walked towards the door to see if it was, indeed, Daphne. Gus is already there and ready to greet the visitor. I pull him away slightly and slide open the large door and I'm guessing the girl standing there is Daphne because I've never seen her before in my life. "Daph!" Suddenly Justin's practically leaping off the couch, pushing past me and death-grip hugging the girl in front of me.

Yeah. It's Daphne.

I pick up Gus and walk away from the door deciding to let them talk and do whatever else they did together. Justin invites her in and the door slides shut again. I take Gus into the kitchen, set him on the counter and begin digging through my fridge for a bottle of water. I pick up the phone to order in some breakfast. Even if the place doesn't drop off food I'm sure that, with the right amount of money, they'll do whatever the fuck I want. And they do. Breakfast will be here in twenty minutes.

**Justin**

Wow. That had been…intense. I don't think Brian meant for things to go that far. I think he only meant to kiss me long and hard and then push me away but…that's not how things worked out obviously. And I'd be lying to say that I didn't enjoy it, though I do feel slightly bad since I'm supposed to be in mourning and sad. Believe me, I'm sad but for those few minutes that I grinded my ass into Brian's cock…I forgot all about being sad. For those few hot minutes that Brian's lips connected with mine…I couldn't think about anything but letting this man fuck me right here on the couch.

For those few minutes…my pain went away it seemed.

"How've you been?"

I sit across from Daphne on the sofa that Brian and I had just been at attacking each other with our mouths and other holy body parts. We both crossed our legs and sat so close that our knees touched. "I've been…ok." She frowned sympathetically. She had only met Mel, Linds and Jenny two times before so she didn't know them like I had known them. Then there was the whole thing with Ethan. She knew him very well. They had had their fair share of verbal fights when he did something that she didn't like. Something like not letting me come out and see her every now and then.

"So…Ethan's gone? Like…for _good_?"

"We didn't _kill_ him, Daph!"

She looked disappointed at my answer. "I wanted to though." She looked over at Brian who had offered his own thoughts on the matter. He smiled a small smile at her. "I hurt him pretty bad though." She smiled over at him. I'm glad to see them getting along for some reason. She made a salute in Brian's direction. "Good work, soldier. Fucking bastard got what was coming to him." Brian bowed, lifted Gus up off the counter and put him to work in a coloring book that Debbie had given us along with the rest of his toys and clothes. Brian looked like all seriousness now as he walked over to his computer with his phone. The next thing I hear is him talking to someone about coffin space.

I frown and look back at Daphne.

"Things _will_ get better, Justin, you'll see."

"I hope so."

"They will. After the funeral…things will get better. You get to start your whole life over again without Ethan restricting you from things and you'll always have your memories of Lindsay and Mel and Jenny. Plus, look on the upside. _Gus_ is still here alive and well. All he has is stitches."

She reached over and grabbed my hand and smiled reassuringly at me. "And you have me too. You'll get through this. Oh, and, you have _him_ to help you too." She nodded towards Brian who was picking up the ringing phone not paying them a bit of attention. Suddenly: "I said fuck you, Mikey! Why the fuck are you calling? No, I don't want to hear your fucking shit." Daphne raised an eyebrow over at me at Brian's outburst into the phone. She wasn't seeing the best side of him at the given moment. I rolled my eyes and quickly explained the Michael situation.

"Sounds like an asshole to me."

"Michael. Don't call here unless you have something worth listening to, to say."

Then a click and Brian slammed the phone down on his desk. He began staring at his computer as if nothing had happened. Then the phone rang again. I sighed over at Daphne. "He is an asshole. He's Brian's best friend too which means everywhere Brian goes he's there." Daphne wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I can't believe he called you a murderer." I shrugged and decided to change the subject to something more light and less depressing.

"How's Keith?"

She rolled her eyes.

"He's acting really weird lately. Really…protective. Ever since we got back from Vermont he won't let me out of his sight. I think he's afraid that I've gotten what I wanted from him, an all expense paid trip to Vermont for three weeks, and thinks I'm gonna leave him for someone new or something. He's getting on my fucking nerves."

I smile over at her.

"Did you guys actually snowboard while up there or did you stay in your room and fuck the whole time."

"Hey now, Sunshine, don't bring that hetero talk in my house."

I rolled my eyes over at Brian and looked back at Daphne who was laughing. "Yes, we did snowboard…but there was plenty of fucking too." I grinned. "Is he any good?" I heard Brian snort from where he sat on the computer but he kept his mouth shut the entire time. "Do you want me to go into details?" Brian yelled out a no from where he sat and she laughed again.

"I was only kidding but, yes, he's _verrry_ good."

"Did you guys do any weird positions?"

I was only kidding and Brian gagged. "Enough talk, Sunshine. Daphne, leave before I hear something I don't want to." Daphne twisted around so she could roll her eyes over at Brian. "Haven't you already heard things you haven't wanted to hear?"

"Yes and I think I've heard enough."

"Fine. Be that way. We'll talk about hot gay sex."

Brian nodded in approvement, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"That's better."

Daphne rolled her eyes over at me. "Even though I don't know _anyone_ who's been having it lately. Well, that I would want to discuss anyway." Ethan. She was talking about me and Ethan. I blanched and looked down at the couch. Yeah, I'd rather not get into that discussion either. "Do you guys plan on going on another Vermont trip?" Daphne shook her head.

"No way. He might get a million times worst."

Suddenly there's a knock on the door. Brian got up off the computer. "That'll be breakfast." And, sure enough, it was breakfast. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, toast. Brian had fucking everything. Daphne and I hurried over to the kitchen. I was starving due to the fact I haven't eaten anything in forever. I hadn't had the stomach to eat anything but now…fuck, I was hungry. Gus ceased all coloring and hurried into the kitchen too. He smiled up at Daphne. "Are you Jus Jus' friend?" Daphne smiled down at him and crouched down so she could be eye level with him. She stuck out a hand.

"Yeah, I'm Daphne."

"I'm Gus."

He shook her hand.

"Justin's told me a lot about you. He always tells me how much he _loves_ you."

I smile. It's true. The times I got to talk to her I always talked about Gus. Told her about the wacky things that he did throughout the day. I glanced over at Brian who smiled tenderly at me and quickly looked away. I mentally cursed when I felt my cheeks heat up. Daphne stood back up and linked our elbows together.

"Let's eat."

So we did. The four of us, Gus sat on my lap, sat down on the floor with our feet under Brian's coffee table and the hot food in front of us as Daphne told us the highlights of her trip. "Did you fuck in the public restroom?" I rolled my eyes over at Brian. "I thought you didn't want to hear about their hetero sex." My mouth was full of egg so it came out muffled and probably hard to hear. Brian smirked.

"I just wanted to know if they did anything _adventurous_."

"No, that's gross. Do you know how many germs there are in the bathroom? In a _public_ restroom? That's unsanitary."

Brian shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

Daphne laughed and continued eating.

"Should you be talking like that in front of your son?"

Brian smiled over at Gus who seemed to pretty much be ignoring them. "He needs to learn early." Daphne rolled her eyes but laughed nonetheless. The next hour was spent talking and pretty much avoiding any subject that would bring up the funeral, Ethan, and anything like that. Thank God. Then Daphne had to leave saying that she would come visit again later. Brian stopped her right outside the door.

"How'd you get my number?"

"Debbie down at the diner."

"Oh, good, and here I thought you were my stalker."

She laughed, said bye and Brian slammed the door shut. I settled myself down on the floor. I rested on my stomach, my elbows holding me up, next to Gus who had gone back to coloring in a Winnie The Pooh coloring book. I watched and only looked away when I felt Brian get down on the floor next to me, lying on his own stomach and scooting over so that we were as close as possible. I smiled a small smile over at him and he returned it. I sighed and asked a dreaded question.

"Is the…funeral planned."

"Almost. I picked the place and date. Emmett's doing the rest. He's good at that kind of stuff…gatherings and shit."

He spoke like he didn't care that I had brought it up but I could tell he did care and that he was bothered by the question. "Sorry." He shot me an irritated look. "For what?"

"I'm sorry for bringing it up."

His face softened and he kissed me lightly on the cheek and then let his head rest on the floor, his hands resting underneath his head like a pillow and his eyes drifted shut. "It's ok, Sunshine." I let my head rest on the floor too and stared at him until he opened his eyes. We stared and it would be stupid to say that I let myself fall and drown in his beautiful hazel eyes but that's what happened. One of his hands comes over and grabs the back of my neck, fingers thrusting into my hair. He pulls me closer so that we're chest against chest that hand slides down until his entire arm is wrapped around my waist.

"I like Daphne. She's nice."

I nod in agreement.

"She's the best."

He smiled slightly.

"I can't believe she's _never_ fucked in a public restroom."


	7. Importance

**Author's Note**: This is, basically, just a filler chapter. That's the reason it's short and kind of, but not really, pointless. I hope you don't mind the length and uneventful happenings. Please review and thanks for the reviews that I've gotten.

* * *

**Justin**

I'm not ready for this.

I'm not ready to walk out Brian's door and go to the funeral. Since no one was looking forward to going to the funeral at all Emmett had planned it as quickly as possible – he got the nearest day he could get to hold the funeral and everyone ran wild with it, getting ready, buying suits that the would shove into the backs of their closets – or duffle bags in my case – when this was all over so they wouldn't have to have the reminder of this fateful afternoon. Brian took me shopping just yesterday; buying me only the best even though I told him not to since I would never wear it again. He fought me and bought me something expensive.

Maybe this is his way of coping.

Spending large amounts of money on himself and other people.

When I tried it on he told me I looked fucking hot, I think he was trying hard, like I was, not to think of the reason he was buying this suit for me and trying to lighten up the shopping spree since I had maintained a silent cover all morning and day. I was so fucking depressed it hurt. It worked, I smiled and bushed like a little school girl and ducked back into the changing room so I wouldn't blush in front of him anymore. I heard him chuckling on the other side of the changing room door. It's been four days since the escapade on the couch, he hasn't touched me once since then and…I don't know what to think about it. I can't help but ask myself if he maybe regrets doing anything at all.

Despite my depression – I hope not.

When he touches me…

I'm a whole different person. And I'm happy despite all of…_this_.

This afternoon, though, as we get out of his jeep, dressed up all nice in our fucking suits that make it hard for me to breath, he reaches out and grabs my hand. I don't know if it's because he needs something to hold or if he can tell I'm about to breakdown and the funeral hasn't even started yet. Or maybe it's for both reasons. For whatever reason, though, I'm happy that he did because I think it helped. I think that him grabbing my hand is what helped me hold back my tears…that is…until we reach the three holes in the ground where their coffins are lowered. It's then that I can't hold back my tears and I'm bursting out into tears and there's no way I can stop them. I muffle them by thrusting my face in Brian's chest.

Everyone needs to hear the priest and not me crying.

I'm slightly comforted to hear others crying too. Debbie's in tears, she was when Brian and I had walked over, but she was doing her best to not get hysterical because she was holding Gus. Gus was in tears too and that didn't help my situation at all either. Seeing Gus cry was heart wrenching and it wrenched my heart roughly. Michael looked solemn, tears running down his face and, despite the fact that he hated me, I felt sorry for him too because he had lost people that meant a lot to him and I knew how he felt. There wasn't anyway that I _couldn't_ feel sorry for him.

Emmett stands in between Michael and Ted with a tissue held in his hand. He's crying as hard as I am, his eyeliner is running down his face in thin black streaks and his eyes are red and puffy. Ted isn't crying but I can see the tears in his eyes, the tears that he's trying to hold back. I don't blame him. I hate crying. I don't bother to look at the people I don't know and I squeeze my eyes shut and listen the best I can as the priest begins his speech. Fucking depressing. That's what it is. The speech that was made to affirm all you worst fears. Worst fears the fact that you friends _really_ are dead and this isn't just a dream.

Brian's arms around me don't even work to comfort me.

When it's over, part of me wishes it wasn't over because that means walking away and leaving the three deceased behind forever and I don't want to do that, I let Brian pull me away from the graves. I pull my head away from his chest so I can see where I'm going though it's not very affective since the tears in my eyes block my vision. I use one of my hands to wipe away the hot water and look up at Brian. For the second time in the time span that I've known him he's crying. Except this time he's crying a lot harder then he had been in his jeep. I don't say anything like last time except I do stand on my toes as we walk and kiss him lightly on the cheek not knowing if this would act as any comfort at all.

All I know is that I see Michael watching the whole thing.

On top of being at the bottom of the world right now he looks really pissed about it. I only nod at him trying to offer my condolences at his losses but he doesn't acknowledge that he even saw it and I'm not surprised. Without a word spoken between the two of us, I don't think I can speak and if I could it would come out all choked up and tears would spill out harder, we get into his jeep and speed off along with the others. The reception is going to be held at Brian's house. I don't know when it was decided. All I know is that Brian told me this morning. I didn't even want to have a fucking reception for their death and I know Brian doesn't want to either but I guess it seems like the right thing to do.

Nothing seems right at the moment though.

* * *

**Brian**

I told myself that I wouldn't cry but I did anyway.

I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. Everyone cried, even Ted cried at the end of the funeral. Justin crying into me made me cry quicker then I had wanted to. Gus crying at all made me cry period. I hated seeing him cry and I hated the fact that he had to go through this at such a young age. That he had to go through this at all even. No child deserved this, their parents dying. By the end of the funeral my throat hurt like hell at my attempts of trying not to cry and my eyes were puffy as hell and probably red too. Justin kissing me on the cheek made me feel slightly, just very slightly, better but Michael acting like he had seen the most disgusting thing ever made me worst again.

I'd have to deal with him later. I look over at the blonde in my passenger seat. I watch him for a second since we're sitting at a stop light. I watch at how he swallows and tries his damned hardest not to cry and stop the tears that are threatening to spill out onto his face. I reach a hand over and place it on his knee. I know it's not enough to comfort him, to comfort anybody, but I do what I can. It's not like I can raise them from the dead and If I could, believe me, I would be. But this was the best I could do at the moment. He doesn't meet my eyes; he only places a hand on top of mine and grips it hard. I don't mind the slight pain, I welcome it and drive on and keep my hand there the entire time.

I think.

I don't think about the deceased.

I don't, can't, want to think about that. I need to be able to see so I can drive. I think about Justin. About how bad I feel for leading him on that one afternoon on the couch and then not touching him, not even a pat on the shoulder, for four days afterwards. I don't know why. Well, I do know why but I'm not sure if the reason is completely accurate. Part of me screams out that I'm taking advantage of the state of mind he's in but the other part of me tells me that, that's ridiculous and that if Justin had really wanted me to stop then he would've made me stop. So, I was confused as to what to do. My dick knew what it wanted to do but me, as a person, had no fucking idea what to do.

Soon we're back to my loft, storm clouds billowing in. Perfect weather.

"We better hurry. Looks like rain."

Justin doesn't say a thing but I can tell he has a hard time letting go of my hand but he does anyway. When we're walking inside the building his hand is latched onto mine again and I welcome it. It's obvious he needs something right now and it's obvious that I do too. Soon after we're in my loft I get out all the food that I had ordered out of the fridge and set it out. I also get the drinks. By the time I'm done everyone's here. Daphne even showed up. I invited her because God knew someone was going to need to comfort Justin. Someone that he was extremely close to and that he could cry his heart out to without getting the person's, or his own, dick hard. God knew, despite the depressing day, mine would.

"I'm really sorry about your loss."

Daphne looks up at me, glass of soda in her hand, with a sad expression on her face. I smile down at her. I like her a lot even though I hardly knew her. The last time I saw her was on the day she had eaten breakfast with me, Gus and Justin. I was glad she was here. Suddenly she hugs me and I'm slightly surprised by the gesture since she hardly knows me but I hug her back. When she pulls away Michael's standing there and an uncomfortable look on his face under his tears. I can't be mad at him right now. It would be impossible so, instead of being mad at him, I hug him instead and he falls apart in my arms.

"I'm really sorry, Brian."

"Shut the fuck up."

I don't need his sorry's. Justin does but I don't tell him that. He already knows. He listens and doesn't say a word and just hugs me. By the time he pulls away his tears are dried and he's probably run out of anymore to cry. "Where's Justin?" I'm guessing he's going to say he's sorry or at least tell him sorry for his loss since Mel, Linds, and JR were his friends too. Whatever he's going to do I'm happy he's going to do it and I look around the crowded room. Then I see him sitting in the very corner of the room with only Daphne for company. She's hugging him like she did me except she's keeping him there and not pulling away and he's practically in her lap since they're sitting and I can tell he's crying his little heart out even though I can't see his face.

I point.

"He's over there."

Michael starts to walk away but I grab his arm before he can get away.

"Michael don't…don't hurt him. He's…important to me."

He seems shocked at my confession but nods.


	8. I'll Be Yours

I've seen you suffer  
I've seen you cry  
the whole night through  
so I'll be your water  
bathing you clean  
liquid blue  
**I'll Be Yours - Placebo**

* * *

**Brian**

There's something wrong with him.

It's been three days since the funeral/reception and everyone's taken it badly but I think Justin's taking it worse then everyone else. Since after everyone left my house after the depressing reception – I was slightly happy to see Michael walk over to the blonde and actually hug him though I'm not really sure if Michael has left behind _all_ his grudges towards Justin – he's been different. Sure, everyone was sad and upset and depressed about the death finally becoming…real but Justin was downright…down. He was more depressed then everyone else and I can't help but think it's because he blames himself.

And that he knows other people ( _Stupid Mikey!_ ) blame him too.

I'm sure he wouldn't blame himself if Michael hadn't said anything to him about it being his fault in the first place and, obviously, my words of confidence in him didn't help anything. I pretty much leave him alone after the funeral. I leave him where he sits on the floor next to the large window overlooking Pittsburgh with his own thoughts and tears. When he's done crying he just silently stares out the window, chin resting on the windowsill and red, sore eyes just…looking. I'd never really had to deal with people when they were like…this before so I let him be until "bed time", which was early since I was tired out of my mind and he didn't look any better, and led him over to the bed.

I crawled in next to him and he doesn't even acknowledge my presence. He just turned over on his side, his back facing me, and his face buried in his/my pillow. I left him alone for the most part and only wrapped an arm around him, pulling his back against my chest. I don't know if I did it for my need to just feel him or my want to try and comfort him. Whatever the reason, he let my arm stay there and even went as far to rest his arm on top of mine, fingers lacing together in a more intimate gesture then I've ever shared with any man in my life. Especially in my bed. Surprisingly, however, I didn't mind it that much. In fact, I may have enjoyed the intimate contact a little more then I wanted to.

The next day, Monday, I, sadly, had to work. Justin said the first thing to me since yesterday.

"You're going to work? Why? H-_how_?"

"I need to bring in the income, Sunshine."

"Can't you bring it in _another_ day?"

I wasn't sure if he wanted me to stay because he thought it was wrong that I was jumping right back on the totem pole so soon after the funeral or if he wanted me to stay because he didn't want to be left alone in a big empty loft. When I thought about it I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave him alone either – he might do something drastic and try to hang himself or something while I was gone since he was in such a state of depression. Maybe I should stay home from work – At least until he gets better. I decided against it. Doing my job will take my mind off things. Maybe I could tell Debbie to drop Gus off so Justin wouldn't be alone. I highly doubt the blonde would do anything serious to himself if Gus was here.

"No. I _can't_. Debbie will drop off Gus later. Now, I really have to go or I'll be late."

The blonde stared at me with large, disbelieving blue eyes and they almost made me change my mind and stay home from work after all. That was the best part about owning your own business wasn't it? You were your own boss. Plus, I was sure that Ted and Cynthia would be able to take care of things without me. Well, Cynthia anyway. I was going to call Ted and tell him not to come. Just because I was going to suffer throughout the day didn't mean that he had to too. What can I say? I was feeling generous at the time. I quickly called up the accountant and told him so. Justin still offered me that 'look' when I was done talking. I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Look – I'll come home early. I have to go in though."

"How come Ted _doesn't_?"

"Because he isn't the boss of the company. I can survive one or two days without him."

He was still looking at me like that. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose to try and get me to stay because it was slowly have the desired affect. "Isn't that the good thing about owning your own business? You get to stay home when you _want_ to?" I worked up and irritated sigh and let go of his shoulder and my face leaned in just slightly.

"Who said I _wanted_ to?"

He looked kind of shocked. I didn't realize how…venomous I had sounded when I had spoken to him and I felt kind of bad for him but I didn't let on that I did. I ran a hand through his hair, hand stopping at the base of his neck. "Just…listen to me. I need to go to work to…distract myself. I have a bunch of shit to do and it'll help get my mind off things I don't want to think about." Justin continued to stare at me, 'the look' slowly disappearing and replaced with nothingness. That only made me want to stay even more.

"Bye."

He quickly pulled away from me. Fuck. Why the hell was he acting so…moody anyway. I dismissed the question. That much was obvious. He obviously needed someone to talk to or just someone to be here with him so he didn't feel so…lonely. I still decided to go to work but I told him to invite Daphne over and that Gus would be along a little later. He didn't say anything to me when I walked out the door and I didn't acknowledge, well I tried not to, the slight aching feeling in my chest where my heart was located. When I got home, I had told him I would get home early and I did – Except early for me was at ten O clock – Gus was already asleep and Justin sat next to the window again. I could tell he had been crying but I don't say anything.

Work hadn't done anything to distract my thoughts away from him so I didn't speak to him.

The second day after the funeral, Tuesday, he was even more distant. I decided to wait to go to work until late afternoon just so I didn't leave him as quickly as I had yesterday. It might make him…happier. My plan didn't have the desired affects. He remained distant from me and Gus, which was surprising to me considering how much he loved my son and wanted to spend time with him after the accident. So, Gus was left to me until I went to work and when I did go to work I took Gus with me and dropped him off at Debbie's. Thankfully, she wasn't working today and she was happy to watch him.

When I handed him over she smiled a small smile.

"Anything to distract myself."

Amen sister. When I got home that night, this time at eleven, Justin was sitting on the couch. The entire loft was dark. Not a single light was turned on and the blinds were drawn tight over the window to keep in the light from the street lamps from sneaking in. At first I was scared, yeah, really scared, that he had done something stupid like killed himself or something. But, to my great relief, he was only asleep on the couch while hugging one of Gus' teddy bears to his chest. It would've been cute if he hadn't scared me so bad. Trying my damn hardest not to wake him up, I carried him to my bed and let him sleep there and crawled in next to him like before.

Then there was today. I'm stuck at work again, well, not really stuck. Cynthia demanded that I leave and that had been an hour ago. I glance over at the clock sitting on my desk. Midnight. I decided that I should leave all these papers behind and go home and check on the blonde that's waiting for me. But, when I walk in the door, he's not even there. I can't even begin to explain the way my heart practically flies out of my chest with it's rapid and harsh beating against my ribcage or the immense sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I throw my brief case down on the floor without a care and barge out of the house. I wish he hadn't thrown his cell phone on the hospital floor because then I could call him.

I call Debbie first.

"Have you seen Justin?"

"No, I haven't. Call Michael. He's been at the diner all night. He called me and asked my why I wasn't doing my shift. He might still be there. Why? Is everything all right?"

I don't answer, hang up and leave the women to look after my son since I didn't think Justin was in the condition to do so, and I quickly dial Michael's number. He answers on the second ring.

"Have you seen Justin?"

"Uh…"

He paused for a moment.

"Yeah, I did. He was in here about an hour ago. He looked like shit."

"Do you know where he went?"

Another pause.

"No, I don't. Why? Is everything ok?"

"I'll call you back."

That said, I click off and throw my phone on the passenger seat and speed over to the Babylon. It's the only place that I can think to look for him at. He's not at the diner anymore and he's not with Debbie. I don't know Daphne's number but I have this feeling that he's not at her house. I immediately think of Ethan and wonder if Justin's with him. No, he can't be. Justin wouldn't go over there. I ignore everyone as I walk into the pounding club. It's been a while since I've been in here. I've been so busy lately. Familiar people say 'hi' to me and ask me how I'm doing but I brush them off and look for the one person that really matters right now. To my dismay, I don't see him.

Until I reach the bar. Then I see him and fuck. He's drunk out of his mind.

He's also sticking his tongue down some stranger's throat.

"Get away from him."

I push the stranger away and he walks away muttering curses under his breath. Justin looks confused at first and then his eyes come to rest and try to focus on me. Then he realizes that it's me standing there in front of him and that I look extremely pissed off. I grab the beer bottle out of his hand. It's still half full and he's intoxicated enough for the two of us. He doesn't need anymore. "Hey!" He slurs it out and drunkenly reaches out for it so he can finish it off.

"I don't think so, you _fucking idiot_."

He looks shocked that I called him that. And confused.

"What the fuck do you think you're _doing_? You don't go around getting ass drunk and you definitely don't go around shoving your tongue down some _stranger's_ throat! You should've called me you fucking moron. I didn't know where the hell you were and how did you plan on getting home? You probably can't even remember your own _name_ right now much less my phone number. Come on. We're going home and you're going to bed."

He only smiles at me and I almost slap him across the face.

"You **care** about me."

I only look down at him. I choose not to answer. He grins even wider.

"You care about me _sooo_ much."

"You're _sooo_ drunk. Let's go."

I grab his arm but he stays put, his hand gripping the bar.

"You _loooove_ me!"

Suddenly his hand is coming around the back of my neck and he's pulling me down into a searing kiss. I can taste the alcohol and, I'm shocked to taste, drugs in his mouth. I quickly pull away and slam his smaller body up against the bar. I think he enjoys that action a little too much. I bring my faces mere inches away from his and glare at him.

"You're drunk. Don't kiss me. Don't touch me. Just shut the hell up and come with me."

He looks hurt at my commands, his mouth slams shut, and I drag him out of the club. When we get home and push him into the bathroom. "Take a shower. You fucking stink." I'm in a bad mood. I hated the fact that I let myself get so…worried about him and I hated the fact that he was right even though he was drunk. I did care about him. I cared about him more then I liked to admit. I already had to admit it to Michael. I told him that Justin was important to me and that was…a big and unexpected step for me. But the loving part? I don't even want to think about _that_.

I quickly throw a few of his nightclothes into the bathroom so he'll have something to wear when he comes out. When he does he's not as drunk, a lot more sober then he had been, and he looks like the most embarrassing thing in the world happened to him. I ignore him and walk into my kitchen to get some well-deserved food. I'm starving and I had been before I went on my little trip to retrieve Justin. I listen closely as I hear his feet pad over to where I stand at the fridge.

"I'm so sorry."

"Will you _stop_ saying that?"

"No 'cause I really am sorry. I didn't mean to just…leave but I felt…lonely so,"

I turned around and leant up against the fridge and crossed my arms over my chest.

"So you decided to go shove your tongue down some random guys throat? Yeah, that just solves _all_ your problems. If you were so lonely why didn't you just call me or Daphne?"

He didn't answer for a minute and he looked anywhere but at me. Shit. I was starting to feel bad for lashing out on him so badly. He was going through a bad time, as we all were, and he didn't need this from me.

"Daphne wasn't home and it's not like you would've come _anyway_."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

He glared at me.

"It means what you think it means. I'm just the hot baby-sitter that gets on your nerves and that you use to release sexual frustration on since you've been so busy. And to think that I actually…_liked_ you."

I gape at him. I don't understand how he could come to that conclusion. He spins around to leave, probably to sleep on the couch since it was obvious he was pissed me and wouldn't be sleeping anywhere near me. I grab his arm before he can leave. "Not all guys are like _Ethan_ you know." He glares harder at me and pulls his arm away. I quickly grab it again and grab his other one and slam him against the kitchen counter. A couple of the plates sitting there slid into the sink with a loud clatter.

"Let go of me."

"Why? You seemed pretty eager in the club."

He tried to push me away but I didn't go anywhere.

"I was drunk."

"How could you say that? You actually think that I'm taking my sexual frustration out on you? You know, I wasn't even sexually frustrated before _you_ came along and started living here,"

I press my body tight against his. Our close proximity is make my cock hard. His too.

"So this is your fault. And, you aren't just my son's baby-sitter. You were right."

He looked like he didn't know what I was talking about. Maybe that was because my dick rubbing against his was so distracting. I rested my forehead on his and rammed my hips harder into is. I wonder if it's hurting him, his body being rammed into the corner of the kitchen counter. If it does he doesn't let on and only let's out a small moan at the contact.

"You were right. I do care about you."

I lick a path from his mouth to the lobe of his ear. His head tilts back allowing me more access to his wonderful and tasteful throat. I bite at it slightly. "I want you around for a long time." I apply pressure on his lips with my own and my hands pin his arms behind his back. I'm horny as hell and this time Gus isn't here to interrupt us. I finally get to have my way with the fucking blonde.


	9. Soulfire

You push me you pull me  
You set my soul on fire  
You take me so much higher  
Higher again  
Thank you for it all  
**12 Stones - Soulfire**

* * *

**Justin**

_I want you around for a long time._

Does that mean what I think it means? Is he even telling me the truth or is it all just a lie so he can get me to sleep with him? My heart wants to believe him but my mind has 'WARNING' flashing in bright neon red and I don't know if I can get past that warning. Then I think back to all the times that he's actually cared despite the fact that people have told me that he…can't. I've witnessed first hand that he can. I guess that's what changes my mind and I guess that's what makes me decided to let the gorgeous man fuck every sad feeling in my body out. To let him fuck me into total oblivion. My hands grip the slightly sharp edges of the counter and I grip tightly as his hips, oh god, ram straight into mine again.

His lips are soon on mine again, sucking, biting, licking all at once and it's almost too much to register – his hands traveling all over my chest, my hips and then a hand on my hard cock. God, I'm probably going to come in my pants if he doesn't remove it right now. I push his hand away and grip it tightly in mine; I pull my head away too, breath coming out hard. People would call me stupid if I told them that Brian Kinney's kisses were literally breathtaking. His eyes are heavily lidded with lust – I'm sure they mirror my own – as he stares down at me, obviously confused as to why I stopped everything from progressing. I lick my lips, eyes flicker from his eyes down to his own lips and then back up to his eyes – His beautiful eyes.

"Fuck me."

Confusion gone, Brian grabs the back of my neck and pulls me forward into another one of his breathtaking kisses.

* * *

**Brian**

He didn't even have to ask. I would've fucked him even if he told me _not_ to. I wouldn't be able to stop now. That would be impossible. What with him looking so beautiful and fucking wanton pressed between my body and my kitchen counter. When he stopped me, when he removed my hand from his cock, I nearly died. I had thought that he was going to run away and leave me in another sexually charged mind set. I had been lucky enough to get rid of my hard on the last time we had gotten so hot and heavy but, this time, I doubted that I would've been able to get rid of it so easily. It was there and I knew it would be an ass and not go away until Justin did something about it. It was pathetic but…my cock needed, depended, on Justin.

"Oh, I _will_, Sunshine."

I can't hold off any longer. It had been too long a wait. I'm surprised that we hadn't fucked sooner. I roughly grasped the ends of his shirt and pulled it over his head. I threw it on the ground – I didn't care where it ended up. I didn't care if my loft became the messiest place in the building. I was finally getting what I wanted - **Needed**. Justin didn't respond – he was probably too busy realizing that he was bare chested and that my lips were now on his and that he needed to move. I don't know why I'm thinking like a stupid…lesbian – That seems to happen a lot with him around – but I can't help but think, maybe even realize, how perfect our lips…mesh together. I do my best to ignore the sparks of electricity that I feel.

That I shouldn't feel. That I don't remember feeling with anyone else before.

I slide my hands down his bare skin. He isn't exactly muscular, more like hard, flat and beautiful. I like him this way. He doesn't need muscles or even a tan to be perfect. He's probably one of the most perfect men I've ever had step into my loft. Next to me of course. I trail my fingers lightly across his porcelain skin, I can feel it quiver beneath the pads of my fingers and I realize he's ticklish, until they reach the hem of his cotton shorts. His _thin_ cotton shorts. So thin. I can feel his already apparent hard on even better then I would have if he had been wearing jeans and, _fuck_, it makes me even harder. My fingers slide just slightly into his boxers, getting a good grip on the waistband.

Just in case he decides to change his mind about letting me fuck him, I savagely move my lips against his trying to distract him from my fingers pulling down the only thing keeping me from what I want to see. Score – though I'm sure he wouldn't have asked me to stop anyway. His shorts fall down to the floor and he moves to step out of them. I don't give him much room for moving around but he somehow kicks them away with my arms wrapped around him and my body pressing tightly against his without even a centimeter between our bodies. I feel his hands slide down my back, hands slide under my shirt and then back up my back, fingers kneading and nails lightly scraping. God – his hands are so gentle but rough at the same time.

If that's even possible. Somehow it is. With _him_.

My shirt is bunched up at my shoulders and I'm suddenly feeling overheated. I pull away but our hips remain connected as if glued together and I help him pull the cloth off of my chest and back. Again, I throw it on the floor along with Justin's lost and forgotten clothing. I snake my hand downwards, I don't know how I've kept my hand away from his dick this long but I can't any longer, until I reach his naked cock. That reminds me that I still need to rip my jeans off so I can fuck him senseless. He gasps into my mouth and, sadly, it almost makes me come in my pants. How long has it been since I've came from just the mere sound and feel of someone _gasping_ into my mouth.

Never.

My fingers curl around his shaft and it begins the methodical pumping rhythm until he's gasping into my mouth and muttering words that are barely coherent. But I hear them all right. "_Fuck_ me, _Brian_, oh, _please_ fuck me." His hands are gripping into my shoulders, nails digging just slightly into my bare skin, and his back arches and his face nestles against my neck. His teeth reach out and nibble along my skin, tongue and lips soon following, every two seconds. The act goes straight to my cock. I won't be able to hold off much longer, and neither is Justin. A loud moan crosses against my neck as he comes in the palm of my hand. Before he can say a word, I spin him around so the front of his body is leaning over the kitchen counter. My hand holding Justin's come wraps around his waist and holds him against my body while my other hand pulls my jeans down. In a fraction of a second I have a bottle of lube in my hand.

I squeeze some lube onto my fingers; I press my chest against his slick back and bite into his shoulder. "Do you want me to _fuck_ you?" The blonde, he's probably beyond speaking at the moment, nods his head, lips parted allowing heavy whimpers/gasps to pass through. It's hot, beyond hot, to watch. I watch his face closely as I slide one finger just slightly into his awaiting hole. The action offers me a moan, gasp and 'Oh, fuck, yes' from the blonde. His head tilts back whereas his body leans further over the counter. Again, I think he looks so fucking beautiful. God – before I know it I'll probably be asking him to marry me and to adopt fifty children and I'll go out and buy a huge home in the country.

I slide my next finger inside, muscles squeezing sweetly around my fingers. I don't know why I'm handling him so…carefully, like he's a virgin. I just…am. I know for a fact that he isn't. He can't be a virgin. Not with the way he had been acting that one-day on the couch. Still, I felt the need to treat him like one. Plus, in a way he is a virgin. With me he is and I did mean what I said to him about caring about him and wanting him around for a long time. I wanted to at least **show** him that I cared. He moans again and asks me to fuck him again. I tell him I will and I remove my fingers from his ass, I somehow get a condom on my dick without realizing it, and grab his hips with both hands. I position myself perfectly behind him and – **he stops me**.

A hand on mine and his eyes peering back at me.

I pray that he doesn't tell me to just…stop. I'll die. My cock will probably fall off it's so hard. "J-just, please, be…_careful_." The first thing that pops into my mind when he asks me to be careful is 'ETHAN' in big, huge, neon letters. Who knows what the bastard did to Justin when he wanted sex? Who knows what the bastard did to Justin when he wanted sex and Justin tried to tell him to back off? "I will." The very thought sent me into a million scenarios where I'm bashing the bastard's head off but I quickly blink them away, rest my forehead against the middle of Justin's back, and ease forward until my cock is slowly seeking refuge in Justin's perfect, tight ass. God, it's so tight. So good. Perfect.

Why is everything perfect with him?

"Oh…_Brian_…"

I tell myself not to say his name or even whisper it but it comes out anyway, what with him squeezing so tightly around my dick and taking me in so willingly. "_Justin_…fuck, you're so…_tight_." Plus, he looks so fucking wanton with his head tilted back in complete ecstasy, and his arms flexing to hold himself up, and his back arching against my chest – God, I hate him for being so fucking beautiful. I slide a hand up his tender side, skin quivering under my touch, until it comes up to reach into his hair. I curl my fingers into the golden strands, still damp from his shower, and pull his head back until it rest on my shoulder so I can press my lips against his swollen ones. I thrust my hips forward faster and faster with each penetrating blow until I'm buried so deep in his ass I don't think I'll ever be able to pull out. Not that I would even _want_ to.

I press on until I'm hitting his prostate every thrust. ( "Brian, oh Brian, _fuck_." ) I want to make this good, perfect, for him. So he can see what he's been missing out on while he's been stuck with and bound to Ethan. I guess I also want to show him that I'm a totally different person then Ethan. "Brian, Brian, Brian, oh fuck, Brian." It comes out of his mouth as a chant and when ever he says my name his ass squeezes tightly around my cock and holds on as if on a ride and I'd be lying if I said Justin was just ok when it came to fucking. Soon, I was coming ( "You're so fucking, _mmm_, hot." ) and, only two seconds later, he was too while moaning out my name. He falls down on the counter and I go down with him, arms encircled around his waist tightly. Like I don't ever want to let go.

I'd also be lying if I said he wasn't the best fuck I'd ever had.

I slowly ease out of him, tie the condom up and throw it somewhere. I think it ends up in the sink. I can't be sure though. I stand up right, arms still around my waist and pulling him up with me. I don't want to stop touching him yet and, as I let the lesbian part of my mind speak up, I don't think I'll ever _want_ to stop touching him. I don't think my lips want to stop touching him either and they prove this by trailing lightly across the back of his neck, my nose pushing through his damp hair. "Are you ok?" I don't mean to ask. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. I've already proved that I cared about him more then I should have for one day – then again maybe not. It'd probably take…forever to show him how much he deserves to be cared for. If it took forever – I was game.

His head tilts back onto my shoulder, his lips seeking mine. They seek quickly. "Yeah…I'm fine." His hand reaches up and his fingers curl into my hair and presses my lips against his again, milking me for as many kisses as he possible can. Like he thinks I'm going to disappear right before his eyes. I'm not surprised if that's how he thinks. Everyone knows I have a problem with…relationships. I kiss him harder, tongue ramming into his mouth with extra force. Just so he knows that I'm here. When he moans into my mouth the noise goes straight to my dick – no surprise there. Then I somehow manage to lead us both to my bed where I can fuck him so he's more comfortable. It's only when I'm positioned over his body, his legs wrapped firmly around my waist and fingers gripping into the sheets, does he stop me again.

"Did you mean what you said?"

_I want you around for a long time._

I can only assume that's what he's talking about. I can also assume that he's asking me again because I've fucked him. For all he knew I could've just been saying that so I could get into his perfect ass. I nudge my nose against his, my tongue reaches out and strokes his perfect mouth – his lips are probably one of his best features – and look him straight in the eye. I try to ignore the throbbing of my dick as it waits for the plunge because I know this is important to him. Important to him because I know that he doesn't want to be used for my own amusement. "I…" ( _Just fucking say it Kinney_ ) "I don't want anything to happen to you." I kiss him again, fast. "I want you around for a long time. Really."

He seems content with the answer, roughly presses his lips against mine, and my dick takes the plunge.

* * *

**Justin**

I wake up feeling…different.

It's probably because I'm naked and I haven't slept naked for…well – for a very long time. Then everything starts to fall into place, slowly but surely. It's like a movie is flashing across my eyes in slow motion. My body bending over Brian's kitchen counter, my head tilted back in complete ecstasy, and Brian moving in and out of me while kissing me on the back of my neck, on my mouth, everywhere. Then I'm in his bed, legs locked around his waist and he's deep inside me, muttering my name, telling me that he cares and wants me around for a long time. I don't think I've ever felt happier at someone's words.

I slowly open my eyes, they quickly shut again when the sunlight intrudes, and blink until I can see without the pain of my eyes burning. His arm is around my waist, one of his legs is draped over mine, and his head rests on the same pillow as mine does. I watch him and wonder. Think. I can't stop thinking about last night, I can't help but wonder if I made a mistake and I hope, more like pray, that I didn't make a mistake. I didn't want last night to be a mistake. It was probably the best night that I've had in a very, very, **very** long time. I don't know what I would do if everything he said to me was a lie – something he just…said without meaning. I told myself – I think I'm just trying to reassure my doubting self – that he did mean, that I could tell by the way his eyes looked down into mine.

I wonder if he'll kick me out. I blink up at the ceiling. Fuck, I hope not.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of his voice. If it was possible to jump out of your own skin I would be out of mine and all the way on the other side of the loft. How long had he been staring at me and watching me think? He chuckles, deep, sleepy sounding and beautiful, at my startled look. I shyly turn my head and look over at him. How do I reply to that? Am I supposed to tell him what's on my mind? He'd probably laugh at me and tell me that I'm an idiot. Like last night when he found me at the bar. His fingers start stroking my stomach. I don't even think he's aware that he's doing it but I like it. Although I'm extremely ticklish. I pull away, a squeal/gasp sliding out of my mouth and he laughs again.

Ok. So maybe he _is_ aware of what he's doing.

"Not funny."

"I think it's funny that,"

He does it again, fingers moving into my side.

"You're so ticklish."

I pull away from him again and accidentally roll off the side of the bed with a loud thump. "Ow." I lie there for a moment and his head appears over the side of the bed, amused smirk on his face. "Are you ok?" My mind does a flashback to last night. He asked me that and I nearly died when he did. 'Cause he cared. Caredcaredcared. Brian Kinney cared about me. I blink up at him and prop myself up on my elbows. "Yes, no thanks to you." He rolls his eyes, grabs my upper arm and pulls me back up on the bed and on top of him, holding me firmly into place.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"So?"

He raised an eyebrow up at me and I raise my own back at him. He shoots me a cautious but questioning look. "Do you…regret last night?" My defense mode immediately kicks in and I narrow my eyes down at him. "Why? Do _you_?" Suddenly he rolls over and pins me down underneath his larger body, hands trapping my wrists above my head. I struggle slightly but stop when I realize that there's no use in struggling. He's not going to let go until he says what he has to say.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

I wrack my brain for something to say.

"What do you think it means? You're…Brian Kinney. You can have anyone out there that you want. Someone who's more…"

Experienced? In tune with the whole sex thing? I don't know what to say. I don't want to be one of his…booty calls. I don't want him to be like…Ethan. Out every night. Finding something hotter and better then me. I don't it. I can tell by the look on his face that he knows what I'm thinking. I think he also knows that I don't say what I'm thinking because I don't want to sound like a pathetic loser who can't take getting dumped. Plus, I'm not one to complain. Even when it does come to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. I keep, most of the time, my feelings about that to myself.

"What did I tell you last night?"

He's practically glaring at me. No, he is glaring at me. I don't answer and only shrug. He said so many things last night.

"Not all guys are like _him_. Especially me."

"I'm…s…sorry."

I know he hates it when I say I'm sorry. His hands grip my wrists tighter. I can tell he's slightly aggravated with the whole 'sorry' thing. "I told you to stop saying that." I tug my wrists slightly. "You're hurting me." He's not hurting me. Well, not that bad. The pressure of his grip is somewhat uncomfortable but not painful. His hands quickly loosen up and a look of…something flies across his face in the process. "Now answer my question." I raise an eyebrow as if I don't know what he's talking about. His face comes closer to mine. Despite the fact that neither of us have brushed our teeth this morning his breath still smells wonderful.

"Do you regret it?"

"Do you?"

"You first."

"No, you first."

He rolls his eyes down at me.

"You're so immature."

"You're so stubborn."

He nods in agreement. "I don't." I stare up at him. "Don't what." His face comes an inch closer. "Don't regret fucking you." I swallow. "Is that all it was?" He pauses as if he doesn't know how to answer the question. When he does answer he's slightly hesitant about it. "…No." I smile. "No." He looks down at me, confused. I can tell by the look on his face. I can feel his thumb begin to stroke the tender side of my wrist and I know he's not aware of what he's doing this time.

"No what?"

"No, I don't regret it."

I quickly bring our lips together none-too-gently. His hands release my wrists so I can bring my hands to the back of his head and neck, down his bare back and chest. I can't keep my hands from roaming over his Godly body. His hands seem to be in the same predicament, caressing my face, trailing down my chest, running over my hardening cock, grabbing at my ass, teasing the insides of my thighs, and tickling over my tender sides. I laugh into his mouth and he bites at my bottom lip in response. I arch up into him, cocks pleasantly touching, both enjoying the friction. Then suddenly I'm crying. I'm not crying because I'm sad, more like crying because I'm happy. Happy that I'm here right now. I finally feel…peaceful.

I think things are going to be all right.

I think Brian's going to make everything all right.

* * *

**Author's Note**: There will be a sequel. Like I can really end it there? Are you insane? I would be insane if I thought I could end it there. There's still Ethan to be dealt with. There's still Michael and his feelings to deal with. There's still…things to be dealt with here! Don't worry, tis not the end. It's only…the beginning. Corny music here Please review. I'm so happy that I've been getting to many FABULOUS reviews. 


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